


Cherry Blossoms

by HailsRose



Category: Ao no Exorcist | Blue Exorcist
Genre: Action, Angst, Combat, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Romance, Suspense, Whump, dark themes, here have this short story I'm chucking at all of you because It's been bugging me for over a year
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-11
Updated: 2019-06-08
Packaged: 2019-07-29 16:22:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 10
Words: 20,974
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16267910
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HailsRose/pseuds/HailsRose
Summary: There’s a place in True Cross just at the foot of Faust Manor. There, it’s always cherry blossom season, even when it snows, and a small family lives in the only monastery. The father is full of regrets and so is the master of Faust Manor—yet everyone wonders why.





	1. Prologue

There’s a place in True Cross just at the foot of Faust Manor, where it’s always cherry blossom season even in the snow. The people are cheery, the fathers are warm, and the mothers are kind. The children have bright eyes, bright smiles, and bright minds—fledglings eager to jump out of their nests. They are reluctant but ready to learn, with scraped knees and bruised elbows and laughter like sunshine kissing the sky.

But secrets run deep beneath the gay surface, underneath the roads sheathed in fallen pink petals. They are embedded within society, something taking root and pretending it is something it’s not: a facade of goodness over the inky black mire. Every mild-mannered person has a skeleton to hide in their closet yet you’d never realize it. Every pink petal that falls from the trees is imbued with the ooze of a muzzled mouth, screwed tight so no confidence is ever shared.

The road to hell is paved with good intentions.     

* * *

“Rin!” Father Fujimoto hissed, trying to soothe the wriggling child in his arms. “You gotta calm down. Just for a few minutes.”

 “WANT DOWN!!” Rin screeched. His voice was an unholy gathering of demonic sounds that grated against Fujimoto’s ears. “WANT MOM!!!”

 “Yuri’s dead!” Shirō snapped.

 Rin froze suddenly, breathing heavily. Silence fell until Rin was the only one making any noise.

 “She’s… dead?” Rin asked. He coughed out a wet breath, tears welled up in his eyes as he traced the still form of his mother, lying still on her bed. On the bed he and his brother had shared with her for years. His voice grew more hysterical by the second. “Mom is… _Mom is…_ ”

 “Dead,” Shirō finished. He didn’t like being so coarse around Rin but he feared what might happen if he wasn't one-hundred percent clear. Shirō couldn’t allude to Yuri coming back when he knew for a fact that she wasn’t. His eyes lingered on Yukio as the boy stared up at him with eyes behind glass lenses. “Your mother is dead. I’m sorry.”

 Yukio began to snivel and large, fat tears rolled down his cheeks.

 “Mom,” Rin choked out. Almost effortlessly this time, he slid out of the man’s grasp. Shirō let him.

 Rin padded on bare feet to the side of the bed and hoisted himself up. A few seconds later Yukio joined him, kicking his little feet in a fruitless struggle until Rin pulled him onto wrinkled, faded blankets. Shirō held his breath as the twins stared at the resting face of their mother. Even in death, she smiled.

 They curled up next to her and wept over her corpse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A few basic things to consider while going into the fic because I’m not going to elaborate on them that much:
> 
> \- This story takes place when the majority of the exwires are 17-18 years old. It’s around mid-October when Rin takes the trolley up to Mephisto’s manor as a teenager. 
> 
> \- Rin had an early Awakening at around seven-years-old and Shirō had to fight tooth and nail to hide Rin’s signature from the Order when the Kurikara stopped being able to hold him. 
> 
> \- Both Shirō and Shura started training him around the same time as Yukio but they were hardly ever allowed out on field missions and only Yukio got certified at 13. Yukio was a desperate bab, he wanted to protect Rin, let him be.
> 
> \- Rin has gained a few other demonic powers over his training years, including but not limited to: hypnotism, gift of tongues, and defiance of gravity. Most if not all of these will show up or be mentioned at some point in the story. 
> 
> \- Satan has a body. He is a threat. The kids don’t care and neither do I. Have a nice day.


	2. Spaceships and Cotton Candy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The title is very appropriate considering nothing interesting happens this chapter. Whoops, my bad.

“You know, for someone so serious about becoming an exorcist, you don’t really know what to do with your life otherwise, do you?”

 Rin looked up as Renzō asked the question. It hung in the air, bitter and curious and eliciting an exhausted sigh from Rin. He’d already dealt with the question enough times for it to teeter threateningly on the border between annoying and downright an induction for his choleric attitude. Teachers had an undying tenacity to bug him about his future because _Demon Hunting Soldier_ didn’t count apparently.

 “Meaning?”

 “Meaning you don’t have a fallback if exorcism doesn’t work out, do you?”

 “Why should I?” Rin asked. He scribbled down the answer to a question on his paper, going between the textbook and his homework. With his promotion test around the corner, he was in desperate need of a study session. On that note, so was Renzo. But he wasn’t doing anything useful, per the usual.

 “I’m just saying, it might be a good idea to have something in case the Order doesn’t always need you,” Renzo said.

 “I don’t think you’ve noticed but my ‘fallback-’” Rin said, making the air quote motion with his fingers. “-Is death. If I stop being of use to the Order, then they kill me. It’s as simple as that.”

 “At least come up with something to tell the teachers.”

 Rin felt a growl itch at the back of his throat. _His teachers,_ or at least a decent majority of them, could take a swan dive. They had a habit of throwing chalk at him and he was always getting scolded for what others were praised for. His father and maybe one other teacher whose name escaped him at the moment were the only fair instructors, the only ones who cared about his success.

 “Fine,” Rin snapped. “My fallback will be hypnotizing pink-haired idiots into walking into walls and wedgying themselves in front of the girls they like.” Renzo’s face turned an unruly shade of pale green at that. “How’s that for a fallback?”

 “That’s just cruel!” Renzo shouted, backing up as far as his chair would allow. There was a harsh _**shhh**_ sound from the librarian across the way that they both opted to ignore. “Have mercy.” He pleaded. 

 “Calm down, Shima,” Rin said, returning to his homework. “I’m not going to hypnotize you. As much as I really want to.”

 Renzo eyed Rin warily, then brought his chair forward slowly, suspiciously, as if waiting for the punchline to a joke. He’d been there with Rin before and not just him but multiple people. It had come to a point where he expected someone to attempt to knock his head in most days and he even needed training to get used to avoiding it.

 “I mean it though,” Renzo said after some time. “You should at least come up with something to tell your teachers. We’re nearing the end of our third year of high school. Surely there’s something you want to do with your life?”

 Rin pondered that, eyebrows knitting together in concentration. Truth be told, he didn’t think he’d have to come up with something. His whole life was already planned out for him, there was no point in him bothering unless the Order sprung an alternative on him. Rin opened his mouth to respond but was cut off by a polite shout at the doorway.

 “Mr. Okumura!”

 The source of the voice was a frazzled teacher with a jittery, crooked smile. He hurried into the room and Renzo took that as his cue to leave. He was off with a lazy salute and a sympathetic smile.

 “Good luck, Rin,” He said, turning towards the door. “If you’ll excuse me, I need to walk Haruka home.”

 A teasing smile pulled at Rin’s lips. “Haruka? Is she your new love interest? You know, after Yoshiko? Kuki? Hana? Iz-”

 Rin didn’t get to finish, instead, dissolving into a fit of laughter at Renzo’s reply: a time-saving gesture consisting of his middle finger.

 The teacher made a face at the crudeness of it all but in the end, he merely shook his head disapprovingly. Rin righted himself as soon as the teacher—Mr. Inuzuka, only barely recalling the name—plunked down into the chair. Dark circles had formed around his eyes, his hair was an uncombed mess, and his glasses sat at a lopsided angle on his face. He kind of reminded Rin of his brother whenever he overworked himself. 

 “Yo,” Rin greeted, barely moving otherwise. “Can I help you?”

 “It’s nice to see you too, Okumura,” Mr. Inuzuka smiled. A crease formed on Rin’s forehead as his expression turned to a mix of worried and vexed. Inuzuka pushed himself too hard, every student knew that. He always asked his students to do their best, challenged them with difficult material. But he was a good teacher. He was kind to everyone except himself, with all the papers and assignments he gave out and thus, had to be awake at unholy hours grading. Some students had even claimed to see him asleep next to a bowl of instant noodles, which tipped off a few to his possibly sporadic diet.

Even Shirō himself had said something about it. “I didn’t think it was possible for someone to have a worse lifestyle than Mephisto. Then again, the world loves proving me wrong.”

 It was anyone’s theory how he was still standing.

 “-You didn’t finish the assignment I gave you on your plans for the future,” Inuzuka said. Rin snapped to attention, eyes flicking to the paper now in front of him and hoping he didn’t miss anything important. His grimace must have shown. “Don’t look so down, Okumura. It may seem like it but it’s not a hard assignment. Besides, your near future is going to be some of the most important years of your life.”

 _'You can say that again,’_ Rin thought. With the Illuminati and Satan to boot running around wreaking havoc and doing things only God knows about and whatever else, Rin’s regular regime had been amped up to accommodate the Grigori’s expectations. If Shura’s desperation hadn’t shown in any of the recent training sessions they had, then Rin was a frog and his hopeless, _obvious_ crush on his classmate was nonexistent.

 Rin sighed. “Alright, where do I begin?”

 “One of your schools of choice was True Cross University. That’s not far from here at all,” Mr. Inuzuka said, pointing at the fine print of the paper. “But you never mentioned what you would be studying. Is there anything specific?”

_‘Exorcism.’_

“Uuuuuuh, I don’t know,” Rin lied. He followed after with a nonchalant shrug.

“Well, just… start small, start with a hobby,” Mr. Inuzuka said. “Chances are you can turn something you love to do into a career.”

Rin only needed to think about it for a few seconds when he piped. “Cooking!”

“That’s good!” Mr. Inuzuka exclaimed. “I’m sure there are a few culinary arts schools you’d fit in splendidly at.”

Rin shot the teacher a cheeky smile and scribbled down the major. He felt kind of bad that someone as kind as Mr. Inuzuka was taking time out of his day to help him figure out a suitable ambition for the time ahead, especially since he wasn’t going to go through with any of this.

Oh, well. What can go wrong will go wrong.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promise, things start getting more interesting next chapter.


	3. Strange Bedfellows

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rin finally goes up to Faust Manor. Aaaaaand bad things happen.

The squelching of blood was ingrained into Mephisto’s memory. He grinned, watching his minions tear his newest victim to shreds. Hellhounds were messy but so very useful, all bite and no bark, embers searing around their glowing, orange maws. The journalist who had hunted him down and had gotten so far in proving the existence of Mephisto’s transgressions was now screaming out in terror and agony as his body was torn to shreds. Mephisto gleefully examined the man’s wallet, a pink umbrella shielding him from the blood and gore.

 “My apologies, Mr. Jomei Sato,” Mephisto said with pity, venom dripping off his words. “You’re a writer? I feel for what family you may have had, they’ll be mourning your loss for many years to come.”

Jomei was stained in blood and tears as teeth and claws punctured every part of his body. His clothes were in ribbons and soon he would be too.

“You’re a monster!” He screamed his last words; a faint echo that would haunt Mephisto for all of three hours before he forgot.

And when those hours were reaching their end, when Jomei could be declared dead, Mephisto’s boots tapped against the shiny floor as he moved, graceful and lithe, down a corridor to a first class seat of a performance of his very own creation. He paused, waiting for his cue.

“I’m a monster?” He chuckled, amused at the assumption. No, Mephisto wasn’t a monster. He was much worse than that. “To your spirit and the revolting remains of your dead body and those near and dear to you, I shall dedicate a quote from Victoria Schwab’s _Vicious._ _‘Plenty of humans were monstrous, and plenty of monsters knew how to play at being human.’_ I hide among you as one of your own and yet, not one of you shall catch me.”

Mephisto stepped out into the light, reclining in a seat where he beheld the greatest view. Masses of sinners, liars, and gamblers accumulated in an underground stadium where volatile gladiator’s blood was shed. Nails were thrown, teeth bared, disgusting creatures that Mephisto himself would never interact with. Not on the loam ground of the stadium where no one dared challenge him to something so primitive or vile. It wouldn't even be expected of an intimidating libertine such as himself. He was the puppetmaster and everyone else the puppets. 

Mephisto only smiled and yet the squelching of blood was ingrained into his memories.

* * *

“In other news, recognized and renowned journalist Jomei Sato has been deemed missing as of yesterday. His investigation into many of Johann Faust V’s supposed scandals has been put on hold until a new officer is handed the job.”

 The news blaring on the old television snagged Shirō’s attention, the jasmine rice of his breakfast now forgotten. He pinched the bridge of his nose and groaned with a grating tone of exasperation.  

“Dammit, Mephisto. What did you do now?”

“Oi, dad!” Rin called, mouth full of food. Shirō turned to glance at his son, whose face was stuffed like that of a squirrel’s. “Is all that stuff about Uncle Mephy true?” He asked, utilizing the affectionate nickname he had dubbed the King of Time. It was a kid’s moniker, at least ten years old and a sign of Rin’s child-like innocence. Despite everything, Rin truly still didn’t know of each and every danger that lurked behind Mephisto’s mask of pleasantries. “Did he really kill and drug a lot of people?”

Shirō had to think about the inquiry. It wasn’t a hard question. Rather it was Rin who asked and the secrets Shirō swore to tuck away in the lapels of his jacket that made him hesitate. As gentlemanly as Mephisto could be, he was still a demon and a Demon King at that. He had been duping and swindling the Vatican from a pretend place of insignificance for centuries. Every exorcist had their suspicions, they all let their whispers fly freely whenever his name came up in conversation. Shirō had lost track of every single rumor he'd heard. As warped and horrendous as the human imagination could be, he knew things about Mephisto that'd erase such things with a dash of the things Shirō had witnessed. But his lips were sealed. After all, it was because of Mephisto that the twins were still alive.

“Well, the story goes that Mephisto runs tens if not hundreds of crime rings; fight clubs, drug traffickers, things that’d give you nightmares,” _Things that’d make the monster under your bed look like a squishy plush toy._ “And no, it’s not true. Not as far as evidence goes anyway. For as long as I’ve been friends with him, you’d think I know him better. But I don’t.”

Rin hummed, tilting his head as he swallowed. He blew out an irked breath then reached for his messenger backpack. He was nearly halfway out the kitchen door when he hurriedly shouted: “Welp, gotta go. Gotta get that letter of recommendation Mr. Inuzuka said I should get, SEE YA!”

“Whoa, hang on!” Shirō scrambled to snatch his son back by the scruff of his shirt and yank him back inside. “You have everything?”

“Yes,” Rin grumbled as Shirō tried to tame the mess of fluff his son called hair.

“Your cellphone, your notebooks?” Shirō continued, smoothing out Rin’s sweater.

“Yes.”

“And you rehearsed how to talk to him when you’re in his office?”

_“Yes.”_

Shirō could hear the strain in Rin’s voice as the boy bounced up and down on the balls of his feet, flashes of anxiety crossing his features as he looked everywhere except straight at his father. With a sigh, Shirō took his hands off Rin’s shoulders and stepped back. “Please be careful,” He said. Rin finally glanced back at him and Shirō could see the unease, the apprehension, and the agitation. He’d paled considerably and his skin was stretched thin underneath his dull eyes. Rin looked about as well as Shirō felt. Neither of them had really slept well on the idea of Rin going up to Faust Manor alone. “Mephisto and his… staff… can be unpredictable. I just want you to come home safe.”

 “I know, old man,” Rin whispered. “I will. I promise.”

Rin pressed for a reassuring smile, all his tension hidden away behind a dauntless veneer that could fool anyone. With one more a hug, Shirō let his son go. He was gone before Shirō could get out another word. His gut twisted and heart panged fiercely and by then it had occurred to him just how much he loved Rin. His son, who was growing up and going places, who was happier than he’d ever been since the death of his mother. He could picture it now, he and his dumb kids, twenty-four years old and drinking sake, getting kicked out of a bar while Rin howled obscenely. Yukio finally getting sick of their shenanigans, dragging them home so they could pass out and try for hangover remedies at noon.

Shirō had to hope they’d make it that far first.

* * *

 Rin had to run to catch the trolley. He pushed past hoards of people, many of them garnished in expensive silks and tailored fabrics that Rin wouldn’t dream of wearing. They all shot him dirty, scandalized looks with eyes narrow and noses upturned in disgust. _Lower-class,_ they said. _Go back to where you came from._

In a linty sweater, dark, faded jeans, and scuffed converse, he certainly felt out of place. The bubble of high society the expensive gaudy houses and snooty people made was not part of his usual routine. Part of him yearned to live in this place; streets paved in stone, sidewalks shimmering like they were hand painted with glitter every night, shop windows filled to the brim with anything a rich person could covet and afford. Dark dresses that dragged on the ground and dapper suits, sparkling jewelry intertwined in genuine silver and gold, a limitless supply of colorful, luxurious sweets, products that turned skin into satin and teeth into pearls. But another part of him knew he’d never fit in. He was far more suited for the quaint style of the monastery on the farthest reaches of the city. His paneled room and his squeaky mattress, the worn wood and cracked pavement, the rustic gates that squealed whenever they opened at dawn. Rin remembered all of them and their cozy charm. How each one of them reminded him of his mother.

She had always loved such things. Dust and clay and the muddle that meant humans had been there. She loved history.

Rin shook his head and breathed out, dislodging any thought of his mother from his head. The Autumn breeze rustled his hair as the trolley chugged along. He’d have to make a transfer at the base of the massive hill that Faust Manor was located on. As the trolley rolled to a stop, computerized voice announcing the station, he stepped into the street and crossed over to the next trolley. A woman in crepe and chiffon scoffed at him as he passed and Rin opted to roll his eyes as he boarded the next Tram.

The tilt of the car made him hold onto the safety bars. The vehicle was old-fashioned in appearance but it had been oiled and refurbished into a combination of dated and modern and it vaguely reminded Rin of the design of a train caboose. It had platforms at both the back and the front, leaving no room for a conductor. With its automated structure, it didn’t require one.

“Always on the side of progress,” Rin murmured, glancing at the cherry blossoms that decorated the track’s sides. He reached up and lightly plucked one of the delicate blooms from a low-hanging branch. He gently moved his thumb over the petals and was prompted to remember the things his mother used to say when he was still so young. Even after so long, he would never forget her ashen face and smiling blue lips or the cold and clammy feel of her dead hand. “While I’m still stuck in the past.”

The trolley pulled through a tunnel and a brisk chill made him forget the flower in favor of hugging himself to keep in the warmth. While his core burned and kept his veins and body alight with fire it never seemed to do any good when he was within proximity of Mephisto Pheles. Sunlight shone in the tunnel and the car left it. Rin squinted his eyes as the brightness of day filtered into his vision. The trolley only ever stopped at the bottom of the mountain, so Rin would have to get off while it was moving, a feat he’d managed to accomplish after some trial and error as a child.

He walked across the grounds, long Westpoint strides that made him feel more confident in himself. His satchel thumped against his thigh as he saw himself up the steps to the vast and gorgeous manor—from it’s swooping arches and curved roofs to it’s crystalline, European windows and ornate, garish exterior colored in various shades of pink and white, Rin almost felt like he was wandering into a Princess’ Castle.

Inside, there were servants moving to and fro, frantically preparing the manor for the day’s events. Rin tried to pull one aside and ask how to get to Mephisto’s office. The architecture moved around so much that not even Shirō could be sure where in Hell’s name anything seemed to be. None of the servants seemed to pay him any mind, however, leaving Rin to meander around in hopes of stumbling into Mephisto eventually.

He soon found himself in the kitchen, a place he had only seen once and practically begged his father to let him into again. It smelled richly of countless spices that Rin would have killed to get his hands on, a chef somewhere was frying butter and garlic in a pan that stimulated the senses, and the scent of fresh cocoa wafted throughout the confectionaries area. He inhaled deeply, immersed in the familiar business and pleasures of the kitchen. The staff coming and going, pleas and orders, a sense of teamwork when a critic walked through the door, cooking for others and the immense satisfaction that people liked their food. Nothing was truly greater.

“Who. The Hell. Tracked mud onto these clean kitchen floors?!” A protruding voice rose above all the ruckus. A few servants stopped, some shrugged, most of them went about their jobs. “Don’t ‘inunno’ me, you’re indentured in the House of Faust, try to have some class. I will ask one more time. Who tracked mud onto **my** clean kitchen floors?”

Rin cocked his head cutely as he stared at the enraged woman. She was short, beautiful, and audaciously loud. Her electric blue hair was pleated down between her shoulder blades and loose strands fell over her shoulders as she leaned forward to point at the mud that stained the floor. It was only when Rin followed the trail that he realized the culprit was-

“YOU!”

Him.

A shot of panic surged through Rin as the small woman approached him. As she got in his face, he got a better look at her golden brown eyes. They were blazing with fury.

“How dare you?” She hissed, pointing at the footprints. “I was up at sunrise cleaning these floors. What were you raised in a barn?”

“I- I- I’m sorry!” Rin stuttered, taking multiple steps back and as a result tracking more mud. “I was just- I was just looking for Mephisto’s office!” He wasn't even sure when he’d stepped in mud and somehow that was the worst part.

“Swell job you did there, you utter moron!” Rin felt his face flush at that. He never reacted well to making mistakes and he reacted even worse when insulted for it. He opened his mouth to apologize again when the woman cut him off. “No. Don't speak. I don't wanna hear it. Come on, I've got a place for hassles like you.”

“Wait, waitwaitwait,” Rin had to fight to keep from sounding like a shrieking banshee as the woman pushed him through the winding maze of people and kitchen top counters. “Please just take me to Mephisto, he knows who I am, I just need to talk to him.” She shoved him out the service exit with no regards to his pleading.

“Flora!” She growled. A new woman entered the fray, standing not too far away from another entrance into the manor. She was tall and stick thin. Her viridescent hair was tied back into a high, tight bun, her skin was tinged an oily, pea green and her cheeks had bright pink flowers stenciled across them. Her pointed ears and unusually bright eyes were a sure sign she was a demon and by then Rin had supposed Mephisto liked quirky (if that was the proper word) employees. “Caught this jackass messing up my floors. Make something useful of him.”

 _‘So much for class,’_ Rin thought. Her language certainly wasn't the respectful up and down rhythm he was used to.

Flora barely spared him a glance then exhaled in defeat. She motioned Rin over to her then closed her fingers around his wrist, dragging him through the door. Rin squirmed, pain swept over his arm, and darkness fell as the door swung shut. It took a few minutes for Rin’s eyes to adjust, to glow with the night vision he had been gifted at birth.

“Are we going to Mephisto’s office?” Rin asked naively. He scanned the thin hallway Flora was leading him down. It was built of musty stone bricks that curved upward into a low arch that Rin could touch as long as he reached his hand up.

Flora didn’t answer. The farther they went down the hallway, the damper the air grew, the harder it got for Rin to breathe. After a while, they entered a circular room. She pushed him into the center then vanished.

“Hey!” Rin called, trying to make out the outlines of the hallway and the room. “Wait! Where’s Mephisto?”

The clattering sound of chains and pulleys echoed around the room. Something scurried around the floor. Tiny feet and claws dug into Rin’s clothes and skin, climbing all over him. He let out a hysterical shriek and bathed his body in blue fire. The light penetrated the darkness, making way for a plethora of imps, low-level demons with monstrous appetites, almost as numerous as coal-tar. Rin did his best to bat them away. Few of them were perturbed. Most continued to crawl up his body until one by one his senses were stripped away. He couldn’t taste the cool humidity of the air or smell the mildew or see his flames blazing ferociously. He couldn't feel the stone underneath his feet or even hear the ravaging imps anymore.

He only fell.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed the chapter! If you liked it, be sure to shoot me a kudos or comment!


	4. Where Strangers Meet

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short, boring yet kind of wacky chapter. I promise that the next chapter is more interesting. Just bear with me, okay?

Rin woke with a sharp gasp.

Pain exploded across the back of his head.

When he stood, his vision began to spin. He bent over, head between his knees as he bit down the bile climbing up his throat. Piece by piece, his situation slowly registered. The blistering sun above him and the burning sand below him, the dry air, stretches of a desert as far as the eye could see. It met the blue sky and formed the horizon's straight line in every which way he turned. 

Rin immediately whipped his phone out, held it up, and swore. "Dammit!" No signal. He looked around at the offending sand like it was a piss poor excuse with no right to insult him. He resisted the urge to kick the sand or stomp his feet like a toddler or let his flames out to let nature know that it wasn't the only goddamned scorching hot thing for miles around. He could be that much of an asshole too if he pleased. When he got out of here, he was going to take his sword to that blue-haired woman's throat and let her know exactly what he thought of her dumping him in the middle. Of. A. Fucking. Desert. And if Uncle Mephy lost one of his precious servants? Well, that was just a damn shame. And now, he was beginning to see why all Arc Knights said he was far too violent for a teenager his size. Maybe he should take dad up on that offer of anger management. One that didn't involve Shura smacking him into a wall. 

With nil an idea of where he was, Rin started to trek North. Angrily. Surely civilization was somewhere around here. A place to get a glass of water, to get in contact with his father, find some transport or a map and figure out where the hell he was. He walked long and far, a lethargic, neverending journey while the sun sailed across the sky at a snail's pace. A thick sheen of sweat began to break out across his forehead, sand began to invade his shoes in a gritty layer that applied an uncomfortable pressure against his feet, and his dehydrated throat itched with the desperate need for water. 

Despite his demonic heritage, Rin knew. He wasn’t immortal. He was capable of dying.

He always had rations in his bag no matter what but he’d forgotten to refill his flask before he left. He had planned to do it at Faust Manor but substantial happenings had ensured he didn’t.  ~~He was going to murder that woman, he was going to and nothing could stop him!~~  And he wasn’t sure if he wanted to start eating right now considering the heat and arid climate. Would it only dehydrate him more? Make it impossible to get farther? Die?  ~~Not before that woman did.~~  Surely his father would begin to suspect that something was up when he didn't call? He'd go after Mephisto, right? He was paying attention to the time,  _right?!_

As Rin continued, he found himself stumbling over a sand dune and the farther he traveled the more hopeless he became. Each step was beginning to feel like weights were tied to his ankles, each attempt to move forward became more drained, less positive and buoyant. Rin possessed only a couple thin shimmering strings of hope by the time he reached what was conceivably a crystal wellspring in a shallow valley.

He made a mad dash for the oasis and toppled face first into it. _Splash!_ He forced himself to swallow small sips, an exercise in the restraint needed to not drown himself. Refreshing streams of water trailed down his face and over the soft pallets of his skin, leaving a pleasant tingling sensation in their place. He nearly ripped the flask from the carabiner on his bag and submerged it in water. He watched with greedy eyes as it guzzled down water as thirstily as he was. He only stopped to rest when an animal groan and a floaty voice snagged his attention.

**“The watering hole is the for animals, you know.”**

Rin was pretty sure that was a camel.

And he was also pretty sure camels don’t talk.

Unless, of course, this camel was something like Kuro and was a demon camel. In which case that made sense. Except it didn’t look like a demon camel it just looked like a regular camel. It didn't feel like a demon camel either. 

Rin splashed some water on his face.

**“Hey, didn’t you hear me?”**

Okay, so it’s _not_ a mirage. Good to know.

He let out a heavy sigh. “Yeah, I heard you. I just wasn’t sure if you were real.”

 **“What?”** The camel whined. If, Rin figured, it was possible for a camel to whine. **“Of course, I’m real!”** It stamped its feet.

Rin wanted to argue, to point out that he’d been wandering around the desert for a few hours. A barren wasteland like this could be home to plenty of demons looking to swindle a poor, lost soul. Most demons took pleasure in deceiving and misleading, especially if the victims were human. To play anything like a fiddle was a demon's greatest pastime. Though Rin didn’t sense any malicious energy emanating from the camel.

“S-sorry,” Rin spoke with contrite. “I didn’t mean to insult you. Do you know where I am?”

Miffed, the camel replied: **“You’re in one of Samael’s pocket dimensions. It’s a prison you will be unable to break out of. Here, you’re fated to go crazy or die, whichever comes first.”**

“What?!” Rin screeched. “I can’t die here! I have school and work and I’m supposed to get a recommendation letter from Mephisto.”

 **“Well, you could always pull that crate.”** The camel said.

“Crate? What crate- _oh._ ” Lo and behold, a hop, skip, and jump to Rin’s left was a massive wooden shipping crate containing god knows what. It stood at least twice his height and ten times his weight, ropes were strung around it in complex loops and knots. The ropes had enough extra to lay on the ground a few yards away from the box.

Rin rolled the ropes in his hands, curiously examining their tight coils. He slung them over his shoulder and began to heave it forward with relative ease. The sand slid out from underneath the crate in small, slow waves creating the trail it left behind.

 **“Whoa, you’re super strong,”** The camel marveled as Rin effortlessly dragged the container along. **“I was expecting you to fall on your face.”**

“Oh, well,” Rin trailed off, sheepishly rubbing the back of his head. He had always possessed superhuman strength. Ever since he was young, he could do things no one else could. He could lift up the teacher's desk to get the ball that rolled under it during preschool, he could push around bullies twice his size in elementary school, and people feared him no matter where he went or what he did. They alienated him, bequeathing unwanted feelings of being loveless   _Don't burn them, don't burn them._  “I’ve always been super strong. By the way, why am I doing this?”

 **“So maybe you’ll get to leave,”** The camel said.

“Why does pulling a box decide if I get to leave?” Rin asked.

 **“I don’t know, it just does,”** The camel snarked. It leaned down into the oasis to sip the water. Rin watched, still trudging with the crate behind him as the agonizing seconds ticked by while the camel's throat glugged with each swallow. Finally, the camel went upright again. **“I don’t see where people move onto. Once again, they either go crazy or die. Or, very rarely, they leave. Guess I forgot to mention that.”**

“You think?”

**“Anyway, sometimes they just kind of disappear. I think Samael has something to do with it.”**

_‘If Mephisto has something to do with it, then why the hell am I still here?’_

“So, what? Am I just supposed to wait? HEEEEY, MEPHISTO!! IT’S YOUR LITTLE HALF BROTHER, COME GET ME, I’M TRAPPED IN YOUR STUPID POCKET DIMENSION!!!”

The camel didn’t even bat an eye. Rather it looked annoyed with the obnoxious shrieking. It went back to drinking the oasis water and pretending it wasn’t associated with Rin. You know, like most people tended to do.

Then the ground rumbled. The sand began to shake as the vibrations moved through the desert in dizzying waves, knocking Rin off his feet. It began to slide downward, slowly and gently before increasing into a full out free fall… six feet down. Onto solid floor. Behind him, Rin could just barely hear the sound of the camel wishing him luck with the relief that he was gone.

Rin glanced around another hallway, this one was much broader and more spacious but just as dark. He inhaled the bone-dry air and absently reached for the hip-strapped Kurikara. He ran his fingers along the wrapping of the hilt, feeling each groove and crest the fabric created. Kurikara’s handle was nothing to gawk at, the cloth that had been masterfully twined around it was neither shiny or refined but it felt familiar in Rin’s hands and brought him a comfort nothing else could.

After a while, Rin’s eyes adjusted to a light at the end of the tunnel. He was off in a burst of speed, feet pounding against the ground. He reached for the light, a raucous sound began to bleed from the walls. As unsettling and foreboding as an angler fish's light in a deep, murky ocean. Rin careened into another room, skidding on his feet in the fashion a cartoon character might. Cheering, thundering people surrounded an arena, several yards away a lithe, hideous demon stood across from him, and the air reeked of something foul.

Rin got the feeling that something was terribly wrong. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This. Feels. Stupid. HELLO, WRITING SKILLS?! WHERE DID YOU GO?!?!


	5. Something Wicked This Way Comes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Coming soon to theaters near you- Rin Gets Into A Fight: Cherry Blossoms Edition.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am feeling unnecessarily cruel, tonight, ladies and gentlemen. I should really do something more with these side characters. Huh... now that gives me ideas. I do like closure.

Rin covered his ears to block out the screaming. Even through the cottony shield his sleeves made, the bellows and the howls and the shrieks of pleasure hammered at his eardrums. Flashes of gold and silver shined in Rin’s blurry, watery vision. He could just make out the flashes of colorful silks and jewelry. He willed himself to open his eyes, even as every sense burned like white-hot fire. Standing in the distance was what Rin thought was an anthropomorphic lizard of sorts. It had dark, greenish-grey scales shrouding its entire body and black spines protruding from its back and tail that gleamed maliciously in the artificial light. Through the rest of the noise, Rin could barely hear the vicious hissing that slipped from its maw.

“Oh, what’s this? Ladies and gentlemen, it seems the master has a special treat for us today,” A voice boomed over the roaring crowd. “Our usual act is out for the day and we have what seems to be a teenager in the ring. I do hope this was planned, I wouldn’t want for any more innocents to die.” The crowd collectively cackled gleefully at that, as if they didn’t believe the announcer was serious. As if innocent people hadn’t bled out in their arena. “Well now. Let’s begin, shall we? In the far corner, the master’s favorite fighter of the day, Buster. In the near corner, some poor, hapless rando. GO!”

Rin had enough time to decide that he didn’t want to know what the massive, wet splotches on the ground were when the lizard slammed into him. The impact of both the creature and the wall against Rin’s back knocked the wind out of him in a devastating blow. He staggered as he found his footing again, trying to regain his breath just in time for the lizard reptile thing to whip its tail at him. The whistling air gave Rin the split second indication he needed to get out of the way before he was impaled. His hand immediately flew to Kurikara and as soon as it did, a thought struck him.

 _‘Only unsheath it when you need it. If you can fight without it, then do so.’_ Shura’s advice rang in his head. Reluctantly, Rin took his hands off Kurikara’s hilt, unaware of the way the lizard kept its beady eyes trained on the weapon.

Rin rolled his shoulders and exhaled, slipping into an almost instinctive combat position. The lizard creature hissed, almost rattled harshly. Its tail swayed behind it slowly. Rin took a step. The Lizard took a step. Slowly, they circled each other, getting farther away with each cautious footfall, each observant, judging movement. All Rin could hear for a solid moment was the sound of both their heartbeats—one a steady throb and the other a buzzy hum.

The lizard moved first.

Rin ducked low as it made a jabbing motion at his head. He tackled the lizard’s spindly, clawed feet and yanked them out from underneath it. It let out a horrific screech as it hit the ground and started thrashing. With a grunt, Rin hefted it over his head and flipped it onto the ground while it screeched in protest.

“Oh, what’s this?!” The announcer boomed curiously. “It seems our rando is much stronger than we gave him credit for! If anyone wants to rethink their bets, now is the time!!”

Rin resisted the urge to snap at the announcer for letting people bet on who was going to win. He focused on the task at hand, ready for when the lizard—Buster, isn’t that what the announcer called him?—jumped to its feet and lunged for him. Rin meant to dodge the attack but with his luck and Buster’s lightning quick abilities, Rin found himself being launched back in a slew of somersaults. He twisted, skidding back. Dust flew up around his feet in sandy clouds. Before Buster could attack again, he rolled forward and landed a devastating kick to its underbelly. It screeched in pain and lurched backward, leaving Rin the opening he’d been looking for. He dove between Buster’s legs, scrambled out behind it with its tail in hand, and ran with it until he’d dragged the demon a few feet. He turned rapidly and made one last jump onto Buster’s spine—not enough to kill the poor thing, fortunately.

“Stay down,” Rin demanded, his voice taking on the demonic tone of a Gehennan language—Lucifer had once told Rin it was an honorable gift to be able to speak and understand such tongues. Rin almost impaled him that day. The only pro that came with his ‘gift’ was being able to interpret demons that not even Mephisto could; it gave him a smug feeling and an edge over his peers in the race for the Paladin rank.

 **“No, it couldn’t be,”** Buster said, he blinked his reptilian eyes, carefully studying Rin. **“This flame… you are… the Young Prince.”**

Rin sighed and rolled his eyes so far back his head hurt. “Can you not call me that? I don’t like being associated with Satan.”

**“Of course, Young Master,”**

“Not that either,”

**“Master?”**

“How about Rin?”

**“Of course, Master Rin.”**

Rin was gonna off himself.

Buster raised a clawed limb and cast it in a sharp arc that just hovered above the ground. Rin stared curiously, tilting his head and trying to figure out what Buster was doing.

“A turn of events! Buster has forfeited the match!” The crowd in the stands became faceless jeers and boos. They all seemed to mesh into one discernable monster, spitting hurtful words like they were throwing pebbles at those who don’t belong. Prejudice and ire polluted the area, sending Rin’s head spinning. Strong negative emotions were the worst, especially since Rin’s human side didn’t register it with the same addictive flavor most demons seemed to. Quickly, he climbed off of Buster, who gladly lumbered out of the area with no fight from the guards trying to escort him. “Alright, people, fork over your cash and get a move on! Try not to fall out of your seats, otherwise, you’ll become demon fodder.”

The people all laughed at the announcer’s sickening joke. Rin choked down the acidic taste of bile that began to climb up his throat. He breathed in and out, slowly regaining his composure. The arena began to shift, opening up a new area where another opponent stood. A savage, wolfish-looking demon with six legs. Rin thought he was going to lose his mind.

He fought, past the annoyance that quelled into cheering for him, past the announcer’s upbeat and nauseating excitement, past the teeth and the claws and the dripping snarls, past the exchange of blows that ocurred every time he engaged an opponent. For every injury he gave, he received three and healed right past them. He could feel his bones shatter and repair upon impact, he could feel gashes mending shut almost as soon as his skin broke. One demon after another, he’d defeat them all and get out of here. Each one was different from the last in their own unique way. A chimera with too many animal parts lashed out at him and nearly took his eyes out, a horse plated in scales that Rin could have sworn he’d recognized from a textbook almost stomped on him more times then he would have liked. A jackass of a goblin swiped his satchel and wrecked the contents inside. Here and there, humanoid demons would appear. Their faces and bodies would resemble the humans Rin had been surrounded by his entire life but horns would protrude from their heads, and tails would whip around behind them. Occasionally, they would have mutated limbs; a goat’s lower body in place of their legs, glorious wings fanning out from where their arms should be. Teeth pointed and beared, ready to rip his throat out. Rin thought it hardest to fight them, their expressions were too readable, too familiar for him. The anger reminded him too much of the exorcists’ glares that had never gone away, not truly. Some were impressed but he knew most of them, no matter how polite, would love to see him run through on a demon-slaying blade.

Rin cried out suddenly, the harpy he’d dodged seconds before had swerved back around with a vengeance to latch onto his back. She flapped her wings furiously, clawing at everything she could reach and shredding his sweater and shirt with his nails. He threw her off as quick as possible and left no time for her to recover, pinning her to the ground. She flailed and shrieked despite Rin’s demands to calm down, that he wasn’t going to hurt her. She only stilled when the bell rang and she was considered out. She hissed at him but willingly went away with the escorts regardless.

“IT’S TIME FOR THE SEMI-FINALS, LADIES AND GENTLEMEN. LAST CHANCE TO CHANGE YOUR BETS IF YOU HAVEN’T ALREADY.”

He’d gotten so used to the announcer’s voice speaking out carelessly that he’d faded into the background—Rin had almost entirely forgotten he was there.

Rin shivered. A chilly breeze rolled over the patches of skin his now torn clothes left exposed. The mixed sensations of warmth and cold clashed with one another over his arms and upper back, leaving him overstimulated and jumpy. He couldn’t focus with both of them fighting for his attention. Once again, he could hear Shura telling him something important—to eliminate all distractions by any means necessary. Mourning the loss of his sweater, he hooked his fingers underneath the hem and pulled it over his head. It hit the ground in a forgotten, crumpled up pile.

It was only by some sheer miracle that his tank top made it out in mostly one piece.

The arena opened once more. Rin’s opponent, much to his chagrin, was another humanoid demon. Worst of the worst though, was that he didn’t seem even slightly demon. Rin had sensed it from him but not seen it. No tails, no horns. He was young, had a nice jawline dotted with stubble, purple bags underneath his eyes, and a shock of combed brown hair. Rin’s first impression of him was that he looked too clean to be in a place like this, too well groomed. It made a stark contrast to his ragged trousers and otherwise completely exposed body—barefoot and shirtless.

“Hey, kid, you new here?” His voice was gravelly and low.

Rin looked behind him for a second to make sure he was the one being spoken to. None of the demons he’d fought with ever spoke to him first, he always initiated the conversation. Most of them didn’t really even acknowledge his words.

“Uh, yeah,” Rin said after some time.

“That’s a shame,” The demon replied. “You don’t deserve to be here in this hellhole. Let me give you some advice: Keep your head down, don’t try to escape, you’ll only get caught, don’t pick fights with demons bigger than you, and don’t even look at the Ringmaster.”

“Hang on a minute, what? What are you talking about? I’m not staying, I was just in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

“Aren’t we all?”

The demon lunged for Rin, not giving him a chance to answer. He landed a slew of jabs to the pressure points all over Rin’s body. Rin went down in a heap, vision spinning uncontrollably. The audience cheered ecstatically. Whether it was because they were glad to see him go down or because his opponent was a fan favorite, he couldn’t decide. And it didn’t matter.

 _‘Get up,’_ Rin scolded himself. He couldn’t stay down, this fight was nothing. He’d fought plenty of baddies before and none of them ever kept him grounded for long. Not giants or golems or tengu or phantoms. No demon in the world had kept him down, not even Satan. This would not be the ground upon which he would sleep. He would stand, he would fight, and he would leave this godforsaken place. _‘You have to get out of here!’_

He’d promised his father he’d come home safely.

 _‘Get up!’_ One hand. Two hands pushing against the ground.

 _‘Get up!’_ Dirt shifting as he gathered himself onto all fours. Body heavy, limbs shaking,

 _‘Get up!’_ The crowd looking at him in shock, the announcer reeling, screaming “wait, wait, he’s up!!” Dirty shoes digging into the ground, The perfect expression on his opponent’s face.

“You, I know your type. You won’t know when to quit, will you?” The demon asked.

Rin smiled in response. “Nope!” He chirped. Rin aimed a punch at the guy, almost a little too pleased with himself when he saw his head snap up and his neck crack. The demon groaned and rolled his body forward, his coffee eyes flashed a vitriolic shine, and the two of them were thrown into close combat. The audience became a muted cry in the back of Rin’s head as all his focus zeroed in on his nameless opponent. He jerked his knee upward into the demon’s stomach repeatedly, earning a slew of satisfactory response curses. The demon latched tighter onto Rin’s shoulders and headbutted him. Rin cried out, struggling out of reach to cup his face. Hot blood gushed from his nose and streamed down his face. Just as Rin wiped his face along his arm—smearing blood along the appendage—his opponent lunged for him, kicking him, hard. Rin slammed into the ground, chest compressing and ribs aching. He rolled out of the way, dust flying as the demon just missed crushing his head. Rin swept his leg out towards the demon’s footing. It stumbled, giving Rin the fraction of time he needed to tackle his opponent. They rolled across the ground and into a heap, Rin unfortunately on the bottom. The demon punched him in the face once, twice, three times and Rin coughed blood. The demon hopped upward to get out of range as if he were afraid to get dirty.

Rage and desperation burned inside of Rin—his soul was on fire and his nerves were shot. Puffy-eyed and determined, Rin hauled off the ground, flames shooting through his veins and out through his body. He punched the demon in the throat, who choked, holding up a hand to block a second punch. The demon cocked his leg up and made a swing for Rin’s head but missed as Rin fell back onto the ground willingly. He absorbed the impact and channeled it through his body, kicking upwards. The demon staggered, Rin hauled to his feet and one, two, three, four blows later the demon was face down on the ground. And the match was over.

Rin’s eyes widened, the truth laid bare for him to see. The demon had no tail, just a nasty scar marring the skin of his lower back suggesting there might have once been one. “What…”

“It was cut off,” The demon answered, wobbling as he stood. In his eyes danced a flame of anger and sorrow. “It was a venomous stinger, once accompanied with mandibles on either side of my face,” He continued, showing him a side where his jaw and skull connected. The skin there was the same consistency as the patch on the man’s lower back. Rin felt a stab of regret. “The Ringmaster had it cut off.”

“Why?”

“Who knows? He might have wanted to see how I would fight without my gifts or maybe he did because it amused him. He’s sadistic, he takes pleasure out of other’s pain.” He said. Rin opened his mouth to respond but was cut off when the escorts came racing out. The man didn’t fight against them, rather he kept his head tall as he walked away; a leader rather than a follower. “I kind of wish you would have let me win so you wouldn’t have to deal with the finals. My advice still stands, don’t do anything reckless.”

“Wait, hang on, am I gonna see you again?” Rin called out.

The man gave a lazy salute, back turned to Rin. “Probably not. I’m kind of a one chapter side character. Though I can’t say for certain. Maybe fate will have us meet again.”

Strange. The guy didn’t seem like someone who believed in fate, especially if he’d been here so long, trapped underneath the watchful eye of whatever hellish fuck was behind this whole shebang. Rin had a feeling he didn’t want to know the name of the person, even as suspicion roiled in his stomach like blistering lava.

As the arena shifted again, however, Rin knew he didn’t want that confirmation. Mainly because Mephisto was right there.


	6. Ain't No Rest For the Wicked

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Or the good for that matter, it seems. Rest in peace, Rin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am sorry... I did not edit this chapter _at all._ I honestly didn't have the patience for it this time but later I'll update the fic with the edited version. You really won't be able to tell until you check up on it periodically though. Same with some past chapters, I gotta go over some wording there and fix it up some. My apologies on that.

If Shura could compile a list of everything she’d ever wanted, she’d have a flood of papers stacked neck deep in her apartment living room. A never-ending supply of her favorite foods, all the nice clothes she’d seen in the shop windows on the nice side of town, Shirō Fujimoto at multiple points in her life, peace of mind, freedom, a full and happy life for her and for the people she cared about, and maybe an all paid vacation to the Bahamas, including a date on the beach with a Tequila Sunrise. 

The unfortunate truth, however, was that most of those things required money, money that Shura did not have. Money that was easily amassed if she could bother to put aside her hatred for high-class rich people and keep a tall order of nasty secrets for Mephisto. It really wasn’t all that hard of an assignment. Control the crowd, pretend this wasn’t some fucked up underground fight ring, get paid, then go home and knock herself out with whiskey and melatonin. 

Shura leaned forward on the railing and sipped thoughtfully from the lip of a plastic water bottle. Things weren’t so bad. Sure, she was burning up and awfully sweaty, her ears were ringing from the deafening hollers and screams of the arena, and she’d punched at least two people in the face for groping her. But all in all, she could at least say it was worth the hush money and punch cards to her favorite bar. Mephisto knew how to buy his way out of trouble if nothing else. 

She let her eyes wander up to the most prestigious box seat in the house. Mephisto mirrored her pose. However, his focus was lingering elsewhere. She followed his gaze to his prized champions. Three of the biggest, nastiest looking demons she’d ever seen. Each of them stood at least a story tall, dull eyes and mashed faces, built like Section 13 had crossed a human and a giant some thirty years ago then completely forgot about it. She wanted to feel bad for them, after all, they had no control over their fates. But sympathy did not pay the bills or keep her friends and family comfortable. That being said, Shura would soon come to learn about the last champion. 

She didn’t know whether to be proud of horrified when the last part of the arena opened up. Proud because her pupil was strong enough to fight his way through some of Mephisto’s worst, horrified because Rin looked about two seconds away from being sick. Briefly, she let herself believe that Mephisto would pull his charge out of this mess, that even if he was a demon, he wouldn’t be so stupid or apathetic to let Rin fight the three ugliest and strongest in this room. When he did nothing, Shura growled and crushed her water bottle, letting it fall carelessly. 

Shura inhaled and cupped her mouth.

“RIN!!!” She screamed. “RIN, OVER HERE!”

* * *

Rin had to fight to stay in control—in control of his emotions, his body, everything. His breath came out in uneven shudders, quick and shallow and dangerously rapid. His demonic instincts scratched furiously at the back of his mind, poking and prodding with a sibilating whisper.  _ Fight,  _ it hissed.  _ Kill them. Burn them all.  _ Rin swallowed the rock in his throat and gripped his wrist. His body shook vehemently as if trying to expunge any remaining drops of courage or rebellious defiance; the fuel to his hot-blooded, raging, fighting spirit. Fear bubbled savagely at the precipice of his emotional limit, threatening to burst over the edge and leave him at the mercy of his demon half’s devouring tendencies.

Black spots danced on the corners of his blurry vision as he looked up at Mephisto. The Ringmaster. How could Rin be so foolish? With everything they’d been put through at the hands of the fiendish headmaster, of course, Mephisto stood on a platform like this, shameless and uncaring.  _ “No, it’s not true. Not as far as evidence goes anyway.”  _ Well, there’s your evidence for you, dad. A whole, smoking mountain’s worth of it. 

“ALRIGHTY, LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, IT’S TIME FOR THE GRAND FINALE!!!” The announcer's voice was more booming than ever before. Unlike before, however, it held a demonic edge to it that seeped from the speakers and down the grandstands like knife-wielding tentacles made of sludge. Now there was an image Rin could have gone without. “In the first corner, Ichi! In the second Nii! And in the third, San!” 

Three giants towered above Rin, each of them towered above him and too much and too little of them going on at the same time for him to be able to take in all of them at once. He could make out patches of skin, ragged clothes, meaty limbs and extremities, the here's and there's of facial features. Rin’s whole body swayed and his stomach lurched. Absently, he sought out Kurikara’s hilt, feeling it’s reassuring warmth.

**_“We can kill them all,”_** His demon side spoke again. This time with less maliciousness and more sweet temptation. **_“You know we’re capable of it.”_**

_ ‘There are other ways to settle this,’  _ Rin snapped back.  _ ‘If I don’t have to kill, I won’t.’ _

“And in the last corner, some sorry podge from the outside who got lucky!” 

**_“We’re at least going to kill him,”_ ** The demon sneered. Rin silently agreed. 

“Ready? BEGIN!” 

“Wait, what?” 

Rin had the better part of a few seconds to dodge when a fist came hurling his way. He twisted into an awkward side roll and sprinted down the long side of the arena, spewing a litany of curses as he went. Abruptly, a wayward limb slammed into him and his existence. He shot across the stretch he’d just covered, skidding face down across the loam. The audience made a gleeful noise of faux sympathy. 

With his whole body quivering, he stood again only to be sent flying once more—straight up into the air, then battered away by a giant’s hand. He struck the ground head first. His sight blacked out and blue sparks scintillated around his body like lightning. 

He pulled his knees underneath him, slowly balancing his weight onto them until he could sit up straight. A hacking cough burst from his wet lips, a splatter of blood stained his hands. His healing had been thrusted into overdrive to accommodate the extensive injuries but Rin knew it was only a matter of time before it gave out on him. He heaved, trying to tune his senses to the sights and sounds of the audience, of the fighting titans in the spotlight, to-

His ear twitched, his head turned. Was that-

“RIN, YOU DOLT, LOOK OVER HERE!!” 

A red head of hair poked out from the bobbing, shrieking people. Rin’s eyes slipped to the brawl going on without him and back to Shura. Before his opponents could decide they wanted to finish him, he made a mad dash for the stands and vaulted onto the railing. He was more than glad to see a familiar face. 

Shura swore. “You look awful, kid. You okay?” 

“Been better,” Rin said. He groaned, rolling his right shoulder and arm back. “Pretty sure I’ve had better experiences with pain before.” 

Through the racket, Rin could just make out the subdued chuckle that arose from Shura’s chest. 

“Yeah, sure seems like it.” She laid a gentle hand on his head and threaded her fingers through his hair. For all their troubles combined, at least the soft purring and swish of Rin’s tail eased their fears. If he could be calmed in a time like this, then not all was lost. “Hey, kid. You know you’re tougher than them.”

Rin cocked his head cutely, giving her his signature, curious puppy dog eyes. “Being tough doesn’t really seem to be working out for me.” 

“Sure it is,” Shura said. She placed both arms on the rail in a lackadaisical gesture. If there was one thing she’d learned from all her years as a mentor to Rin, it was of his positive response to her usually easygoing attitude. Particularly in high-stress situations. “You’re the most stubborn bastard I know. You’re quicker too, and smaller. You can use that against them. Make them throw their weight around trying to catch you, and when they’re all worn out, deliver the final blow.” Shura brought a fist down onto her open palm. 

Rin nodded, craning his head around to stare at the blustering fight. He held a reluctant fear in his eyes that existed in the deepest area, lapping gently like the waves of a new pond on a muddy bank, just visible to Shura’s keen senses. She sighed. 

“You can do it, Rin,” She assured, turning his gaze back towards her. “Don’t think about these people, don’t consider their feelings because they’re not important right now. Keep your eyes on the fight, find your leverage. You can do it, kid. I believe in you.” Shura paused. She eyed the intricate hilt at Rin’s hip. “Hey, give me that.”

“Wha-” Rin whipped around with a horrified stare. “Shura!”

“You don’t need it!” Shura pointed out. “You don’t! You don’t need to go fwipping your sword everywhere, especially when you aren’t gonna use your flames for this.” 

Rin wanted to melt into a whining puddle. If he were ten years younger than he actually was, he might have right then and there. He loathed the thought of parting with Kurikara, even if it was only for a few temporary minutes, even if he knew that it would be safe. Shura would get torn apart again and again before she let anything happen to his heart, Rin knew that. It didn’t make him feel any more at ease as he handed the katana over. 

“Kick ass, kid,” Shura said. She pushed him back with the tip of her finger, Rin released his grip on the railing. He hit the ground, springing into a run. 

“WAIT, THE RANDO IS BACK?!” The announcer hollered, appalled as Rin threw himself back into the fray, weaving and bobbing between every opening he could find, narrowly dodging a kick not even aimed for him. He caught a glimpse of one of the giants tackling another into the ground just as he slid out from underneath the fray. He received an ugly glare as recompense for his troubles. 

A loud alarm blared, flashing red lights filled the area. Rin gritted his teeth and covered his ears, trying to muffle the new onslaught of sounds. His human half commanded that he breathe, his demon half demanded he burn the world to ashes. “IT’S FINAL BLOOD TIME!!!” 

The arena creaked and clattered like the joints of an old god coming to life for the first time in millennia. Rin’s gaze shot up to find the rafters in the ceiling breaking apart to reveal mammoth-sized buckets. Beneath him, the ground shook and the dirt and the sand seemed to melt away until his feet met the cool metal of a massive grate. It stretched out, making up the entire floor. Rin said a silent prayer just before the water hit and drowned him a waterfall. He wheezed out a breath as soon as the water faded, sinking to his knees. The giants were unperturbed both by him and the sudden change to the environment. 

Rin cursed, sending a scathing glare at the black space between the grates. A dim, orange light began glowing. Rin squinted, trying to make it out. Gradually, the glow got brighter and brighter until the center was a blazing white. Heat tingled pleasantly on his soles. A shock of realization cuffed Rin and he bounded out of the way, just a hair’s breadth away from being cooked alive by a pillar of fire. He smashed into the ground, chest taking the brunt of his landing. All around him, columns of flames and water rose and fell like a chaotic symphony. 

It was loud and dirty and vile. Rin just wanted a goddamn signature (maybe a nap), not a tournament.

* * *

“Come on, come on,” Shura growled out. Her intertwined fingers ached from how tight. she clasped them. Her begging seemed to go unanswered. She’d never prayed to God once in his life but if her pupil survived then she might consider it. “Please, Rin, make it through this."

* * *

Rin’s vision slipped over to Shura, pleading, beseeching some invisible deity. A surge of hope pushed him to his feet. If Shura could bring herself to believe, so could he. (Nap be damned, he was gonna get through this or at the very least try. No one in their family gave up without a proper fight. He'd go kicking and screaming and cussing Mephisto out if he had to.)

He flung himself into the fray once more, leaping away from flames and water. One of the giants saw fit to smack him away like a pesky bug but Rin was ready this time. He latched onto the monster’s arm and shimmied up to his shoulders before it could register. Rin hurled himself into the face of the next giant with a flaming fist. It shouted out furiously and both he and it dropped to the floor. Rin ducked under an oncoming foot and lunged at the other one, exerting inhuman strength to throw the giant off balance. He dashed away, bracing himself as he smacked into the highest wall in the arena leading up to the announcer’s glass box. He whipped around to stare at him recuperating opponents and the wall of water that came over them. 

“Man, these guys are resilient,” Rin said quietly. His eyes slowly followed the remaining stream up to the trough being filled. His fighting brain hammered away, connecting the pieces of a plan in his head. He wasn’t exactly the battle strategy type and knights lived by the saying  _ smack it until it dies.  _ But if he made himself think hard enough, then a clear image of a light bulb flickering on came into focus. 

With a deep inhale, Rin stuck his claws into the wooden wall and heaved himself upward. One limb at a time, getting out of reach of the now pissed off giants who wanted a piece of him. 

He blew a silent kiss to the training Shura gave him with his demonic abilities. Crawling all over the walls like a demented chipmunk never felt so good. 

“Hey, did anyone see where the rando went? He just kinda disappe-”  **_Bang!_ ** “AAAAAH!”

“You scream like a little girl,” Rin said with a shit-eating grin. The announcer had scrambled so far back in his chair he was on the brink of tipping over. The familiar swirl of flames encased Rin’s hands as he punched the glass in a sudden act of vengeance. A rattling crack split the glass like lightning and the announcer flailed ignobly out of his chair. “STOP CALLING ME ‘RANDO!!’”

Rin continued on, going until he hit the nearest rafter and could swing himself up. A quick look down told him the giants had gone back to fighting each other and that two of them were finally wearing themselves out. He suspected it wouldn’t be much longer before they finally gave out. And thank god for that. 

“Holy shit!!” The announcer shrieked as Rin walked along the length of the support beam leading to the trough. “Anyone else get a look at that nightmare child?! That was terrifying!” 

Rin rolled his eyes, crouching down at the bolts in the hinges. Blue fire danced on his fingertips, temperature climbing until it could melt metal. He enveloped the connectors in his flames and wiggled them out of their place as quickly as their softening, blistering skin would allow. Although Rin’s super strength didn’t seem to be doing him any favors, he did manage to wiggle two bolts free before being interrupted. 

A high pitched whistling noise pierced the air. A needle of lightning whizzed past Rin’s head. He leaned over to shoot a glare at the perpetrator, only to find the tip of a gaudy pink umbrella aimed up at him. A devilish simper peeked out from behind violet bangs. 

“Now, now, let’s not go breaking the rules, shall we?”

Aimed directly at him, another shot of lightning exploded from the tip of the umbrella. Rin cleared the support beam. Fireworks ripped through his side as he sprung for the trough. He screamed. He latched onto the lip of the water vessel, tearing it from its hinges on adrenaline. It screeched and sparked, tilting, tilting until the water sploshed violently over the edge. Slick with blood, sweat, and the contents of the trough, Rin’s hands slid from the lip of the trough, and he plummeted. 

The impact drove through his spine like the incoming waves of the ocean. Building up slowly to a menacing tower, crashing down rapidly in a punishing tsunami. A stream of flames rose up and devoured Rin whole. It tingled and itched uncomfortably before receding away. Numbing pain ricocheted through his entire body, from the base of back and outward, over his ribcage to the top of his head and the tip of his toes. Darkness entered his vision, the world spun like a broken record. His chest rose and fell, shuddering as his lungs struggled to take in oxygen.  _ Something  _ cast a shadow over Rin. 

One of the giants. 

It was trying to say something to him. But Rin couldn’t tell what, his ears rang too loud for him to make it out. Something about being… a peck? Whatever. It was his last opponent. The other two had finally tired of the fight and left Rin hung out to dry with a monologuing monster, ready to crush him into the dust at any second. It was then, as the adrenaline began to die out, that fear began to mingle with the pain. It started at the tips of his fingers, trembling, and climbed up to his shoulders. His heart hammered against his aching chest. 

Sca҉ręd͞.̢ 

The audience was silent yet deafening, holding their breaths, hoping for his demise. They whispered among themselves, exchanged papers and smiles and  _ pity. _ Rustling their silks and velour, tidying their hair. Beautiful, cruel, evil,  _ uncaring.  _

**M͕͢a̦͙͙̳̹k̭̙͔̣e͏̟̣̜ ̠͚̘̠̫͚t҉̖̪h͓̞̼͉e̮̺͖m̺̖͎̗ ̨͖̳̰͉ͅg̫̰̣̞̣̺̣̕o͔̝̲͈̫̣͉ ͈̗̠̯̖ͅa̢̦w̞̮ͅay͖̜͠.̝ ͏͖M̡̯̯̻̫ͅa̫͢ķ͕̜̟̤ͅḙ̴̫̣͈ ̺̰̲̗̮̠͕t̙̲̙h̡͈͎e͏̜m͖ ̷s̱̭͕̫̲h̛u̡̝̪̯̲͇̺t̖ ͉̺̝ư͙͎p̨̥.͙̭͕͟ͅ ̵͕͇̖̰**

Rin’s demon side throbbed, fighting for it’s release, fighting to set the world ablaze. The giant got closer, just a step. But a step enough to make Rin want to throw up. He wanted to squeeze his eyes shut but couldn’t. Agony and blood pooled into his mouth, metallic and deathly and  _ choking.  _

 

**Hͦ̄̃̎̚eḻ̘͕̀́͑͜p̋ ͣ̉mȩ̼̹. ͮ̿ͮͭ͛Sa̲̮̺̕ṽ̷͖̹̟ͥ̃̽̚e̥̋̾ͩ̂ͩͮ ̊̉͏̼m͉̐ěͣ͐͏.͙͙͂͟ ̸̞̝̰ͪ͋̒̆̚**

 

**B̓̐ͩͧ͏̫̲̠̥̥e̥̣̤̎ͤ̅̇̇ͩͭͣͩͭ͂͐̚ rî̸̈́̋̓d͛ ͎̬͆͆̾oͭ͐̈f̝͊̅ ̔th̰̹͉̜̣̫̯͛̀̐͆͒͑ḛ̣̪͢m̓̓.̤̾ͮ̉̿ ̌ͪ͋Kiͭlľͭ th̶͈͇̞̰ͯe͛͆ͩ̎͡m̢̯̮̒͋̅͌͆.̺̪̰̝͘ ͚͎ͮ͗̽͢Ḓ̨̤̤e̹ͯͧ̃͆̃͑s͇̰̓̈̍ͥͯͧ̚t͍̪͛̃́ͧͯr̫̳̥͖̎͆̓̃ͧő̴̘̜̻̭̩ͦy̒̾ͧͮ͋͏ͅ ̬̟̩͉͓̹͖t̹̲͈̝́̔̎h̛̖̠̎̍͆e̘̰͇̎̈́̅ͩ͆m̝͓̘̍ͯͣ͋ͪ̑.̬**

 

**B U R N  T H E M A L L.**

 

**_CLANG!_ **

Rin froze. The audience took in a collective gasp. The giant groaned from the ground. The trough from above had come loose and landed on its entire upper body. Silence fell like cherry blossom petals in the late Spring. 

All at once, Rin dissolved into manic giggling. He curled into a ball, clutching his stomach. His demon side died down, his fear melted away. For once on this horrid, nightmare of a day, something had finally gone right. 

“I… I can’t believe it…” The announcer said, breaking the silence. He cleared his throat. “The… the nightmare child won. The nightmare child is the champion of today’s tournament!” 

Nobody cheered. Nobody celebrated. It was just Rin alone, relieved and laughing and falling asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sdkaljfaklsdjf Hey, is it out of character for Rin to laugh like that after so much stress? I don't know what I'm doing right now, so...
> 
> I'm sorry this chapter took so long to get out. I had a hard time getting to a computer and I wasn't really feeling the motivation at all these past couple months. But I hope this makes for the absence and as an apology, I'm going to try to have the newest chapter out by the beginning of May. 
> 
> Also, for clarification, Ichi (one of the giants) was trying to call Rin _a pest_ but Rin was kind of too deaf at the moment to be able to tell. 
> 
> Stay savvy, my friends.  
> ~Hails


	7. Mother's Recipe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The not-so-great escape...
> 
> Let's just chalk it up to the fact that Mephisto needs to be punched again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to preface this chapter by saying that it doesn't flow all that smoothly and there's a lot of exposition. Sorry about that, I know I probably should have put more thought into it but brain likes aesthetics more than it likes actual stories.

**Chapter 6: Recipe for Disaster**

The soccer game was on. 

The living room was filled with laughter and cheers. The kitchen was quiet, save for the sound of running water. 

Scalding water and soap scoured Shiro’s hands as he plunged a dish under the running faucet. He could already feel the oncoming raw feeling that would linger when he finished up and welcomed it, inviting every distraction to drag his mind away from his eldest son. The worry of Rin traipsing around Mephisto’s words sent a thread of ice winding around his insides. Rin was tough, Shiro knew that more than anyone. His resilience was a sight to behold but unfortunately so was Mephisto’s diction. Just because Shiro at seventeen could send a middle finger and a threat to Mephisto without any qualms did not mean he didn’t have his reservations about Rin doing it too, as priceless as that probably would be. 

And there he went, back on what he was trying to avoid thinking about.

_ Distraction, distraction, distraction. _

_ ‘Ech, look at me, worrying over something so ridiculous,’  _ Shiro thought to himself.  _ ‘What would Yuri think of me?’ _

A silver bell rung in Shiro’s head. The little conductor in charge of his train of thought slammed on the breaks and it came to a screeching halt. Oh… Yuri… 

_ Yuri, Yuri, Yuri… _

Soft, clean, pure. As radiant as a star and strong as iron, born into a cruel, cold world that smothered compassion like a snowstorm would a lit match, where kindness is met with treachery and hope with mockery. Sprouts of trust and love growing between the pavement cracks were stomped out by the boots of those on top of the unspoken hierarchy. Yet Yuri always smiled, no matter the trials. He could still remember their initial meeting, clear as crystal, and how easy it was to draw that first smile out of her. He hadn’t even intended on it the first time but after a while, he found himself subconsciously looking for it again. It had been the one thing that kept him going for so many years, whether he realized it or not.

And she’d worked herself to the bone, always giving, hardly ever taking, never acknowledged for it. She’d been down and out due to sickness more times than Shiro could count and nearly every time, he chose to be by her side, begrudgingly nursing her back to health, telling her to save some kindness from that ever-flowing reservoir for herself. Who knew that the thing Shiro had always warned her about would ultimately be the thing to take her life? 

The twins hadn’t been older than six. He’d just gotten into a fight with Yuri. The vicious lividness he’d felt put every other emotion he’d had to shame upon discovering what she’d done, upon what Mephisto of all people had let her do. Saving  _ that monster’s  _ children? He had told her that the sons of Satan weren’t worth the good life she was trying so hard to give them, that they weren’t her second chance at trying to fix Satan. Oh, how he should have known. The stress was too much for her. 

He’d received the call, confused as hell when he heard two squeaky, panicked voices. The shot of fear that had gone through him when he’d heard what happened to Yuri had him out the door and racing to her side a quickly as possible. (See two hours too late.) He’d tried his best to keep her awake and alive, to shoo the little spawns out of the room while he worked. But it was all for naught. She’d apologized to him, asked him to spare some of his own kindness for her boys, and fell to death with a smile on her face. A smile like always. 

Even after so long, Shiro could still hear the sound of that wretched phone ringing away from his past and his dreams.  _ Briiiiiing! Briiiiiing!  _ A warning, it felt like. Pick it up and she dies, don’t pick it up and he’d never know what became of his dear friend. He wondered sometimes, was ignorance better or worse?  _ Briiiiiing! Briiiiiing!  _ Worse, he decided. Because then who knew what would have become of Rin and Yukio. Post mortem, he’d kept his promise to her, spared some kindness, and took her boys in.  _ Briiiiiing! Briiiiiing!  _ He’d never regretted the decision since. Rin so full of love and willing to give it to anyone who’d let him and Yukio so quick to learn, soft-hearted and shy. They were their mother’s sons, no doubt, and they’d filtered sunshine into his drab, frigid world just as she had. 

“Hey, Shiro! Are you going to get the phone?”

Oh, whoops…  _ The phone was actually ringing.  _ Well, Rin certainly took his sweet time calling him. He must have already gone back to school. How scatterbrained could a teenager  _ be _ ? 

Shiro put the phone up to his ear. “Hello?” 

The sound of Shura’s voice on the other end sent a riveting chill through him. Despair unlike any he’d felt in years slithered through his limbs and squeezed his old bones. An ache traveled from them like an oncoming storm.

The living room was filled with laughter and cheers, the kitchen was quiet.

* * *

 

Misty steam rose from the bath in curling tendrils, the air was thick and humid. Rin kneaded his fingers against his temple, nursing his headache away. A hissing, guttural lament left his throat as he leaned back against the rim of the wooden bath and grit his teeth. Bit by agonizingly slow bit, he could feel his muscles relax, his body stitching itself back together like it always had. His back throbbed as the skin finally healed over and a painful ache emanated from his spine as it began it’s dragging repair. On instinct, he trailed a hand down his bare side and felt for the ripped flesh caused by Mephisto’s attack. Rin furrowed his eyebrows. 

_ ‘Mephisto…’  _ Rin knew he should stop where he was going in his head but the thought stubbornly stuck to him, refusing to cease. Despite everything, despite Mephisto’s scheming, the way he’d manipulated all of them into their positions on his chessboard, Rin wanted to believe he’d cared. He’d wanted justification for his faith in dear old Uncle Mephy, so he’d waited, patiently hoping that Mephisto would show that he was capable of warmth. Even now, some minute, foolish part of Rin still hoped for it. But he knew, hell, he’d known for a long time. Mephisto had shown his true colors already, there really was no doubt about the kind of person he was. Still, a question rapped against his brain.  _ ‘Why would he attack me like that? Sure, he’s stuck up and a jerk but he’s never attacked me outright. At least, not when I haven’t provoked him’ _

“Hey, kid, are you gonna be okay?”

Rin’s focus snapped into place. Memories came flooding back to him, of Shura vaulting over the railing, escorts half-dragging half-carrying him out of the arena, of being stripped down and practically thrown into a massive bathtub right where his former opponent had seemed to make himself at home. Though at what point he’d done that boggled Rin’s mind. He knew he should keep his mouth shut and roll with it but since when did Rin ever have  _ any  _ self-control?

“WHEN DID YOU GET HERE?!”

“I’ve been here the whole time, kid,” The demon said. His hair was plastered against his face and his eyes were hazy and warm. “Long before you. Glad to see you’re as energetic as ever.” 

“What is this place?”

“Man, all questions, huh? Don’t you have anything better to do?” 

Rin opened his mouth to respond. 

“Wait, don’t answer that. If you’re here, the answer is probably no.”

Rin huffed. Truth be told, he actually  _ did _ have better things to do, such as that damn recommendation letter and school and spending time with his classmates. He had a test today in Japanese Lit. He promised Yukio a surprise for lunch and that they’d eat together. His dad was probably annoyed if not sick with worry that Rin hadn’t called him back yet. The list could go on and on but he wasn’t about to let this wiseacre know that. 

“Well, if you’re so smart, then why don’t you tell me where we are?”

The demon cracked a weary smile. “I like you, kid. Straight to the point.” He said. Rin rolled his eyes. The temptation to leave the bath and find a pair of clothes was overwhelming. But Rin had no idea where to start looking and he had too much decency to just walk out into God knows where while buck naked. “We’re in the ‘Sanitation Area’ although all the competitors just refer to it as the baths.”

“The baths?” Rin asked curiously. “And... competitors?”

“Yeah, doesn’t quite seem like a place the Ringmaster would set aside but the guy has a thing against germs,” The demon explained. He made a half-hearted shrugging motion, tilting his head back and forth as he spoke. “He prefers all his little circus freaks nice and clean before a blood match. You fought your way through some pretty tough bastards. All of them are competitors looking to get into the Ringmaster’s good graces. The better you perform, the better your living conditions are. Competitors have to go somewhere when they’re not beating each other up, right?”

Now that Rin thought about it, he supposed that must have been the case. However, the more he continued, the more questions came to mind. 

“Hang on a minute, so are you saying that there are worse conditions than this?” Rin inquired. Looking around the room, he had to admit it wasn’t his first choice for a bath. It wasn’t terrible, a couple steps up from the abandoned dorms he stayed in for the exwire exam. But he definitely preferred the monastery above all. 

“Well, yeah,” The demon said. “This place is made up in tiers, almost. If you’re the stars of the show, like the Titans the Ringmaster prefers, then you get all kinds of sweet treatment. Separate baths, soft beds, privacy. It doesn’t come free though, you have to fight for it. If you’re above average, you get something like this. A few others below this level of prowess get slightly worse conditions, then the majority live in the dirt.” The demon paused. He got a distant look on his face as if remembering something from long ago. “I would know…”

A stab of pity panged in Rin’s heart. He hugged his stomach. “How… how long have you been here?”

“Hm? Oh, uh… my entire life, I was born here.” If the demon saw the look of horror on Rin’s face, he decided not to comment on it. “It’s just the way life is.” 

The pity and sorrow Rin felt morphed into a slow, blood-boiling rage. It twisted and writhed in his gut, working its way through his lungs and throat, searing an edge to his tongue.  

“No, it’s not.” Sure, life threw all kinds of things at people, good and bad. Rin could attest to that. He’d lost his mother at a young age, dealt with cruel, hateful whispers about his family and heritage, and had been shoved into the bloodier parts of exorcism sooner than he would have liked. But he’d had other things to make his life worth living, things that had never failed to put a smile on his face. His father, his brother, his friends, and all the little things in the world his mother had told him to look out for. 

_ ‘Look at this, Rin,’ Yuri said, turning a large rock over. Rin leaned over and gaped at the muddy indent, in awe of all the bugs wriggling around in the soil. ‘See these? These are earthworms. I keep them in our garden because they help stir up the ground and make it healthy for the plants. Isn’t that cool?’ _

Rin kept this memory close to his heart. Although her absence in his life had left him hollow and sad, he could look anywhere and still see his mother. In the rain, in the forest, in gardens and orchards and the earth, in the taste of fresh fruit and the smell of wildflowers. In the worms and insects, he’d find whenever he dug through the land at the park and promptly got scolded by Shiro for muddying his hands. 

“This isn’t how life is meant to be lived! You’re not just supposed to wake up, fight, and go back to sleep again.” Rin’s shoulders shook vehemently, his face screwed up into an expression of stubborn, righteous anger. “That’s not what life is like at all! The only fighting you should be doing is fighting back against the people who put you here. Life is precious, dammit! It’s not supposed to be wasted away like this!” 

A stunned quietude rippled in the air like a thunderbolt, there one second and gone the next. The demon laughed subduedly. 

“Hey, you know something? You remind me of someone I knew when I was little,” The demon said. “Everyone called him the White Spirit.” 

“The White Spirit?” 

“He wasn’t here very long but he was a damn good fighter, terrified the hell out of everyone though. Say his name and everyone starts cowering. The only one who ever challenged the Ringmaster and made it out victorious. Things weren’t always so good but when he won, he made life better for everyone down here. The only thing he couldn’t do was take us out of here.” 

Rin put a hand to his chin. Tales of heroes and vigilantes weren’t uncommon in the monastery. Fantastical lands, damsels in distress, fiction was the root of Rin’s childhood. He was by all means familiar with the concept of chevaliers protecting humanity with their life, so it shouldn’t have come as a shock to him that these people had one of their own. But the idea of Mephisto being knocked down and dragged through the dirt felt a bit out of this world. There was only one person he could think of that could kick Mephisto’s ass whenever he wanted and that was-

“Hanada, we’ve got a problem!” 

The demon, Hanada, jolted up straight. The newcomer, who Rin wasn’t close enough to get a look at, had only popped their head in through a wide, doorless entrance. Hanada leaped out of the bath, nimbly making his way to the exit, pieces of an important conversation dangling just out of reach. 

Now, if you were to ask someone what Rin was like in concerns to secrets, they might say he has an oblivious streak, that he doesn’t care for mysteries and prefers to the avoid the harmful aspects of seeking the truth. However, if you were to spend time with Rin, steadily absorbing every bit of his personality, you’d realize he’s quite the opposite. He despises the dark, craves to be in on the confidence. He’s not so drawn to it to get burned and fear of the unknown can block his way, he’s spent much of his life drowned in sadness. But that wouldn’t stop the curiosity that egged him on, no matter how much he tried to rationalize staying out of it. He’d learned early enough that avoiding the truth was a surefire way for the Order to come back to bite him later. 

As quiet as possible, Rin slipped from the water and edged over to the doorway, pressing his back up against the wall. Two voices went back and forth in a furtive discussion. 

“For real? He’s here?” Hanada hissed. “Huh, speak of the devil and he shall appear. Just my luck.” 

“What do we do?” The informant asked. “I mean, normally if things went wrong I wouldn’t have come to you but this is a special case. No one has seen the White Spirit in years.”

_ ‘No way!’  _ Rin thought to himself.  _ ‘Hang on, this guy is actually real? Why would he appear now? Is it because-’ _

“Tell everyone else to either scatter or mind their own business,” Hanada ordered. “Chances are he’s not here to intentionally hurt anyone. Mind the Titans, they’ll probably be nice about it but you know your place.”

“Yes, sir.” 

Rin narrowed his eyes.  _ ‘What is going on? First that pocket dimension, then an entire fight ring, now this? Why does Mephisto have this place? Why would someone who escaped this place want to return?’  _ Rin had no idea how long he stood there even when Hanada left, too lost in his own thoughts once more, too many questions bouncing around the inside of his head. Oh, how he wished he could be in the comfort of his own bed to think about this. 

“Shit, here he comes, get out of the way!” 

Rin didn’t stay put for long. His eyes did a quick once over of the room, finding nowhere to hide. Of course, not. It’s a prison, right? Rin slinked over to the corner adjacent to the doorway, hoping it’d be as out of the way and not bothersome as possible. Whoever this enigmatic fighter was, he obviously had a position of power over everyone else, and Rin didn’t intend to hinder his path without good reason. If it came down to it, he might be able to tail the guy to learn of a way out but he was nowhere near ready for another fight. He thought back to the injury on his side and repressed the urge to hold a hand over it. It was still healing and he didn’t want to antagonize it. Footsteps rang down an unseen, otherwise silent hallway in a fast jog. Rin pushed himself further into the corner. 

_ Keep yourself together, Okumura  _

“Rin?” A voice shouted out. “Rin, are you here?”

Relief flooded Rin’s system like a tidal wave. He’d recognize the sound of his father calling for him anywhere. As soon as he took a step forward, his father’s title wrenched itself from his mouth. 

“DAD!!!”

Shiro rushed into the room the moment he heard his son and seconds later Rin crashed into him in a hug. Shiro wrapped his arms around Rin, pulling him tight against his chest. 

“Rin,” Shiro breathed out with solace, shivering with the movement. “You’re here. You’re okay, thank God! Come on, I got you some spare clothes.” 

Shiro fished an outfit out of a satchel slung around his shoulders which Rin about immediately took from his father’s hands. He fumbled with the fabric, shakily pulling a sweater over his head as Shiro straightened the collar. Rin yanked a pair of trousers on and tied the belt a little too tight though with the sudden rush of comfort, he couldn’t really bring himself to care. He was halfway into his shoes when Shiro put a hand up to his head. 

“You don’t have a fever, fortunately,” He said professionally. It was the tone of a doctor, concerned and serious, deep in thought with a mind that Rin couldn’t read. “You’re shaking, though. We should get you home.” 

Rin clung to his father’s side as he led him from this hell—a hell that was falling apart at the seams all while the clock ticked away on its lifespan. As they walked, Rin’s eyes scanned the maze of hallways, watching as his surroundings lethargically morphed from cleanish white tiles to stained brick and rotting wood that creaked underfoot, barely stable in sound. Every once and awhile a room would pass, sometimes empty, sometimes filled with the suffering of a handful of various demons. They’d peer at them, hollowed out, depleted of energy, and an ache would begin in Rin’s chest every time he spied one with a human face. He heard Hanada’s words ring in his psyche—a curse on their underground world, parroted back to him in an echoing mantra. 

“Dad…” Rin finally said after some time. “What happened here?”

Shiro’s pace slowed, his expression became distant and sorrowful and Rin knew he’d touched on a hard subject from the past. Shiro let out an agonized, exhausted sigh. “It’s a long story.” He whispered. “And not a very happy one. I’m not even sure I’d be able to tell you.” 

Rin had heard those words plenty of times and knew their meaning like ants knew their labyrinthine hill. He couldn’t identify whether or not it was because Shiro was physically unable due to Mephisto-related reasons or if, right now, the recollection held too many painful connotations for Shiro to be able to do much but he did know that the truth would come out eventually. Really, all he had to do was ask Mephisto and he’d know soon enough. Deity knows he loved holding information over a certain twin brother’s head. 

“I want to help these people.” Rin blurted out suddenly. He meant it, he did want to help these people. They didn’t deserve their fates, as unknown as they were. 

Shiro smiled softly and gingerly mussed Rin’s hair. “Well, considering what I heard on the way in here, I reckon you already have. But don’t put too much thought into it right now. Heal your own wounds first, then think about others, okay?

“Okay.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm beginning to think that at the rate this is going, I'm going to have to write a sequel for this. But knowing myself, that could take literal years to get to. And no, I'm not kidding. Ick. 
> 
> Stay saavy, my friends.  
> ~Hails


	8. Recipe for Disaster

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finally, some good old comfort to go with our hurt. Izumo pops by for a surprise visit and Shiro confronts Mephisto about the underground fight ring with some good old fashioned bickering, innuendos, and swearing.

Like a deprived child, Rin craved the touch of another human more than anything else in the world, to be in the embrace of a loved one, just a few seconds would suffice. He would have done just about anything to make that happen, even if today was one of the busiest days of the week at the monastery. Anywhere else on a Sunday was a break day where Rin could kick back and relax without any trouble. Today, however, he was confined to bed rest - Yukio said it was to make sure Rin didn’t overstress any of his injuries but he knew better, he’d healed the worst of them yesterday. Yukio just wanted an excuse to play doctor to assuage his worries - and Rin was awfully lonely because of it. Since his father and brother were attending to the abbey with the priests as back-up, he was left in solitude and had his heart set on some much-needed affection. However, with no one here to give Rin what he wanted, he’d resorted to the next best thing.

And buried his face in an arrangement of flowers. 

The yellows and pinks helped calmed him down and its scent was soft and sweet. Though, they made his eyes water, probably due to his seasonal allergies. Rin couldn’t bring himself to care. Besides, Shiemi had put the arrangement together and delivered it to him earlier that day, he refused to part with it. 

A gentle knocking sounded off at the door. Rin begrudgingly lifted his head from the arrangement and beckoned his visitor to enter. “Come in!” 

The door swung open. “Jeez, Shiemi was right, this place was a mess.” 

“Izumo!” Rin sat up straight quicker than was humanly possible and thwacked his head on the upper frame of Yukio’s bed. Damn bunk beds to hell, was Rin ever gonna learn? By the look on Izumo’s face, there was some doubt about the possibility. Grumbling and holding his head, Rin continued. “Ow… What are you doing here, polkabrow?”

“How many times have I told you to stop calling me, ‘polkabrow?’” Izumo admonished. The answer would most likely be along the lines of  _ not enough _ . She had no idea why she even asked anymore when Rin showed no signs of stopping in the first place. “It got old the first few times.”

Rin smiled. “Because it suits you. It’s a cute name for your cute eyebrows.”

“Wh- wha- HUH?!” Izumo spluttered. Her face turned a bright shade of cherry red and Rin burst out laughing, dropping back onto his mattress and clutching his stomach. “Shut up! You’re being weird again! I said ‘knock it off!.’”

“Ah, that’s always funny,” Rin managed out once his laughing tapered off. 

Izumo hmphed, crossed her arms, averted her gaze, and puffed up her cheeks. At least Rin still had a sense of humor. It would ruin the entire cram school if he stopped being able to give everyone one of his signature, genuine smiles at least twice daily. It would ruin  _ her.  _ Rin’s smile could light up entire cities. Though she’d stubbornly refused to admit that such a thing was the case. “Whatever. Get your books out, dumb dumb.”

“Huh?” Rin oh so eloquently inquired. “Why?”

“For studying, what else?” Izumo asked like it was the most obvious thing in the world. Rin supposed, for someone as studious and erudite as Izumo, it probably was. “We’re starting a new book in Japanese literature next semester and would like a headstart. I don’t want to think about the possibility of being asked about my future again.”

“That doesn’t really answer my question,” Rin muttered, relatable as the statement Izumo made was. Nevertheless, he slipped down to the wooden floor and underneath his bunk to dig out his backpack. 

“Someone always studies with you, don’t they?” Izumo inquired, observing with just a sliver of amusement as Rin wriggled around for his backpack, torso hidden underneath the bed frame, tail wagging back and forth energetically as though a distraction fit for stimulating a feline had taken over. “Besides, it could be Suguro instead.”

Rin practically propelled himself back into the light. The darling pout on his face was an expression for the album, oh, how Izumo wished she had her polaroid. “Please don’t! He’ll hit me if I stop paying attention!” 

“I think that’s the point,” Izumo said. She flopped into the nearest desk chair, opening up the book - the Rule of Beasts - to its prologue. “If you’re not paying attention to your lessons, then you kind of deserve it.” 

“Through violence?”

“Through a way you understand,” Izumo corrected. “You two… have a more hands-on approach to things. As annoying as that is.”

“You’ve thrown hands with him too, you know,” Rin pointed out. 

“Whatever. Listen up, or I’ll throw hands with  _ you _ , understand?”

_ ‘She kind of sounds like a drill sergeant sometimes,’  _ Rin thought to himself as he scratched down some half-hearted notes. He didn’t need to focus too hard on the assignment at hand, especially with his mind wandering elsewhere. Izumo was a welcome distraction from that, thank goodness. Unfortunately, just studying  _ with _ her wasn’t a  _ strong enough _ distraction and once more he wouldn’t have minded a hug about now. Nightmares of yesterday kept springing up whenever they thought appropriate - flashes of brutality and blood and bile. Slender claws ready to rip into him, teeth that danced a fine line between a razor’s edge and dull barbarity, eyes sloshing with a survivor’s desperation and their very quintessence: the refusal to go down without a fight. The intrinsic knowledge that kicking and screaming was the only way to save yourself. The cold, hard fact that the world was going to take a long time to save you if it ever did, and that lashing out was the only way to win. Every single one of these competitors, these  _ survivors,  _ were ignorant to the fact that fighting each other only furthered the cementation of their fate. They were embroiled there, condemned to strip each other of their hearts and souls for the pleasure of the rich and privileged. Had they tried to fight back before? Had they tried to escape? Had each and every one of their hopes been quashed over time, piece by piece, or had they arrived there like that? Outsiders with nowhere to go and a world that didn’t understand them. 

Rin decided he knew that feeling well.

* * *

 

“Hang on, whAT?!”

“Wait, wait! No!! That’s not what I meant, shhhhh, stop laughing!” 

It gave Shiro a kind of joy to see Rin having constructive interactions with his friends. For the longest time, Rin had neither such positivity or friends at all. It seemed like such a hard thing to come by for his son, who had given his all, with his short temper and generosity, and still never found the support system he needed until his darkest hour. 

To think what little he had could have been ripped away from him just yesterday. 

An unpleasant feeling churned in Shiro’s gut. He had a visitor he needed to see to. 

He moved silently down the hallway, letting the bickering fade away into a pleasant memory. The abbey wasn’t far, actually in Shiro’s opinion it wasn’t far enough away. He would have appreciated more time to think about a condensed but silver-tongued enough version of his thoughts that his guest would actually bother to heed. Shiro’s gaze caught on the rafters paralleling each other, leading through the center of the aisle, to the figure standing gracefully before the confessionals. The air was always a little distorted around Mephisto like space and time were unsettled by the presence of their master. Shiro squared his shoulders and strode down the passage. 

“Hello, old friend,” Mephisto greeted with a jovial smile. “I received your call! You wished to speak to me?”

“Yeah, I did,” Shiro snapped. “Remember that old fight ring from way back when?” 

“What’s this?” Mephisto asked. He flashed his fangs, a brief warning for Shiro to watch where he stepped next. But Shiro had thrown all reason out the window once Rin had gotten hurt. “Skipping our usual foreplay then? Just want to get straight to the good part, hm, White Spirit?” 

“Oh, fuck off-”

“Tsk, tsk, language, Father.” 

“I don’t need you to tell me how to abide by the Vatican’s commandments, you asshole,” Shiro fumed. “Why did you let Rin get beat up like that? He’s supposed to be under your protection, you’re supposed to get him out of sticky situations that don’t line up with your grand scheme for the world.” 

“I apologize, it seems I didn’t properly educate my servants on your children’s appearances,” Mephisto said with a pout. He tilted his head in a manner that suggested he was trying to be cute. Shiro supposed it would have been had Mephisto been much younger, without intruding wrinkles or tired eyes. “Forgive me for that slip-up. I suspect you’ll be wanting all of Rin’s possessions back as well?” 

“Please,” Shiro ground out. He held out a pair of open hands. With a poof, Rin’s jeans and sweater, satchel, and phone dropped right into them. Sitting sweetly on top with a flouncy pink ribbon and covered in stickers was a folded piece of a paper. If Shiro were to guess, it was probably the recommendation letter Rin had come looking for. He did a brief inspection of them then let out a weary sigh. “You do understand that Rin doesn’t have tight lips like I do, right? He’s not going to keep your secrets.” 

“I don’t expect him to,” Mephisto said. He shrugged almost too nonchalantly. “Truth is, though, I also don’t expect to get in trouble regardless. I had to put all those poor saps from Section 13  _ somewhere. _ ” Shiro went rigid at that. “It just so happened to evolve into something…  _ more convoluted…  _ without meaning to. Nowadays, it’s more of a dumping ground for captured demons that the Order has too much trouble exorcising. It's good for PR, after all.” 

Secrets from the Order like always. Why was Shiro not surprised? 

“Right because I’m sure the members of the Grigori don’t have something to say about it.”

Mephisto’s simper fell into a frown. “Unfortunately, I don’t believe the Grigori will side with me if this does become public. Armumahel and Shemihaza had different beliefs back when Section 13 was established and they’ve carried quite a bit of those into the present and while Azazel can’t really testify for anything, there’s no doubt his vote will find me guilty too. Oh, well, I suppose I must face the music sooner or later.” 

“You don’t seem all that worried about it,” Shiro pointed out. 

“I didn’t call myself Loki in a past life to bother being worried about such paltry things,” Mephisto replied. He nearly pranced away, far too light on his feet to be anything other than a demon. It was always the little things that reminded Shiro of who he was talking to - sharp grins, pallor, eyes brighter than they had any right to be. “Toodles, Shiro~ I do hope our next meeting is more exciting!” 

Shiro resisted the urge to kick something.

* * *

 

A flash of pink caught Izumo’s eye. She turned towards the window, observing with awe as an Autumn breeze ruffled the flowering tree outside. 

“Cherry blossoms…” She trailed off curiously. 

Rin looked up from his notebook, pencil ceasing in his hands. An indescribable squeak left him and warmth began to spread across his chest and face. Izumo looked awfully pretty like this - relaxed, curious, taken away by temporary beauty. Her ruby eyes were wide with fascination and her eyebrows were pinched upward, her lips were slightly parted and her cheeks were soft and rosy. 

“Oh, yeah,” Rin finally managed out after far too long. Izumo spared him an innocently inquisitive stare. “I forget, you and the others have only ever been over here during spring, huh? The cherry blossoms here are different than what you’re probably used to.” 

“Different how?” 

“Uh, well, I don’t really know the specifics of it.” Rin’s memory was hazy from when he was young, only a few, prominent things ever stuck out when he needed them most. “But the cherry blossoms here bloom four times a year, once every season.” 

“What? Even during winter?” Izumo gawked. 

“Yep,” Rin piped. “Dad said it's because Mephisto being interested in plant science or whatever. Apparently, he bought all the trees here in this area of True Cross from this research organization. Something about how he dislikes how they’re only around once a year.”

“That’s a little ironic, don’t you think?” Izumo couldn’t help herself. It  _ was  _ peculiar that this happened to cherry blossoms of all things but oddly enough made it made sense. “I mean, the King of Time, an immortal being, hates that things come and go so quickly. You’d think someone who’s been alive for over a thousand years would have come to terms with empathy for transience.” 

“Yeah, you’d think so. He really is strange."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rin has allergies like a normal person because his immune system can't defend itself against pollen and I will fight everyone on that. 
> 
> Well, that concludes this session. After this, there's one more chapter and an epilogue. Remember to leave a comment or kudos and show your support. With that, I'm signing off. Stay savvy, my friends.   
> ~Hails


	9. Cotton Candy and Spaceships

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Dad?” He asked aloud. His voice sounded hollow and alone in the small room. “Is that you?”
> 
> The door squeaked on its hinges at it slowly swung open. “Jeez, I always forget how perceptive you are. At least it’s not the weirdest thing you’ve done.”
> 
> “Daaaad,” Rin groaned, face contorting into an expression of annoyance. “Seriously?”
> 
> “What? Am I wrong?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is it, guys. The final chapter, a bit of exposition and finally the tying of some loose ends. Here's to hoping I did it right and managed to answer everyone's questions. 
> 
> The epilogue will be posted within just a little bit from now, mostly as I'm turning 19 on the 13th of June and I'm going to spending some days leading up to that working on schoolwork so I won't have to worry about any of it for a few days before and after my birthday. 
> 
> That being said, let's get on with it!

_ The sun is shining. Its rays cast an amiable light over the paved roads and sidewalks. Children are laughing cheerfully, brightly, and running around on the cracked pavement as a teenager has them chase around a stubborn kite that refuses to fly with the fleeting breezes that had previously come their way. An abrupt gust of wind howls and carries the kite into the sky as the teenager lets out the slack. The air fills with childish screams of delight.  _

_ Rin passes the kite to one of the older children and lets his feet carry him out the rusted monastery gates _ .  _ They screech in protest but Rin pays them no mind as he runs down the street, keeping his eyes on the kite that soars higher and higher into the atmospheric blue until it vanishes for good.  _

_ He sprints. His feet pound against the cement, surging pain collects on the soles of his feet as he bolts, occasionally glancing at the sky in search for the kite. Despite his lack of fortune or observation abilities, he knows something that no one else knows. At the end of the street, past walls of blinding yellow tape and orange hurdles, there’s a rocket bound to launch at any minute. He knows if he runs, he can catch it. In leaps and bounds, he’s over the unguarded precautions, zipping over the blacktop just as the rocket begins to smoke. He latches onto a side ladder, holding on for dear life and wanting more than anything to keep the euphoric rush of freedom that’s overcome him. The city shrinks beneath him to nothing more than a pinpoint dot. The clouds morph from white to pink, no warning, no reasonable answer but the kite flies among them, unfettered and exuberant. Rin reaches out to grasp it’s vibrant array of colors, only for it to dance away. His hand fills with cotton candy instead.  _

_ The rocket finally explodes past the atmosphere, sending clouds and space junk flying out of orbit without any difficulties. The surrounding void is peppered with white-hot stars that twinkle and sing distant melodies on planes of existence beyond human comprehension, they’re unearthly, divine, beckoning and bidding with languages that transcend all. It’s something Rin thinks he might have seen or heard in a dream before the womb but he’s not quite sure, that thought is too complicated for his simple, aching brain.  _

_ His fingers slip from the rocket’s ladder as he thinks and he swims, squiggles around in desperation for solid ground he’ll never meet again. Something latches onto the collar of his hoodie and drags him into a tight squeeze. He returns it, no hesitation in his actions. He would know the feeling of these arms anywhere, the scent of this cassock. Strong, herbal, littered with gunsmoke and incense.  _

_ His father would keep him from floating away. _

* * *

 

Rin’s eyes flicked open. The unreasonable universe had vanished, replaced by the comfort of his room. He slowly took in its features, the dark wood that paved its surface, the worn out desks and the cool glow of sunshine illuminating the galavanting dust particles in the air, the papers and pencils strewn about the floor, and it was all surprisingly vacant of one, in particular, adorable classmate. He chanced a glimpse at the door, feeling for the presence behind it

“Dad?” He asked aloud. His voice sounded hollow and alone in the small room. “Is that you?”

The door squeaked on its hinges at it slowly swung open. “Jeez, I always forget how perceptive you are. At least it’s not the weirdest thing you’ve done.” 

“Daaaad,” Rin groaned, face contorting into an expression of annoyance. “ _ Seriously? _ ”

“What? Am I wrong?” 

Rin opted not to answer. He  _ had _ done some bizarre things as a kid, mostly as a way to rebel against the seal put in place to hide his powers. Much of that rebellion included chewing everything in sight to hell and back and crawling on the walls and ceiling like a deranged squirrel, anything to drive every exorcist trying to nurse and care for him insane. Could you blame him though? He was never meant to be sealed away. He knew at the time he needed to be as discreet as possible True Cross Order but nowadays he was glad he could finally live the way his mother had intended, free from social restraints.  

The morose inability to continue with the banter must have been obvious, though because Shiro was more than sharp enough to pick up on Rin’s uncharacteristic silence. 

“Hey, you still doing alright?” He asked, stepping further into the room. 

Rin hummed. “I’m okay. I’m kinda worried about all those people but I’m more just trying to stay focused on what’s happening right now. I don’t wanna dwell too long on what happened but…” 

He didn’t finish his sentence, Shiro didn’t think he had to. He cautiously made his way over to Rin, settled down on the bottom bunk, and pulled his son close, until they were touching shoulder to shoulder. Casual affection always had strange connotations for Shiro, the only one he’d ever let touch him without a healthy dose of trauma-induced aggression was Yuri and all that had to change when he’d taken the twins in. Especially since kid Rin hadn’t come with any forewarnings for being the touchiest, cuddliest child imaginable and had made it his mission to hold onto whatever part of Shiro he could at all times. “I know what you mean, kid. Even when you leave it behind physically, that stuff stays with you. I’ve been there.” 

“Have you, White Spirit?”

“Wha- How did you know about that?”

“Oh, come on, you’re a bit of an urban legend down there,” Rin explained, trying his best to restrain the cheeky smile threatening to give him away. He couldn’t lie, he was amused by the fact that his old man had dragged Mephisto through the dust before. “I know I’m not the smart one between me and Yukio but anyone with half a brain could figure it out. You’re probably the only one I know that Mephisto would ever try to straight up fight and somehow lose.” 

“I only won because I made him vow not to use his powers and because if you throw a little bit of mud at him, he completely forgets how to fight.” Merely a small window, Mephisto had his strengths and wasn’t a pushover by any means but for someone who had been fighting demons all his life, that hitch in Mephisto’s rhythm had been a solid reason for his victory. Still didn’t mean Shiro wasn’t going to overexaggerate for the sake of getting on  _ His Majesty’s _ nerves. No win was too small in Shiro’s book. “If you’re so confident in the fact, then you really have nothing to worry about right? Besides, I’ve got a feeling that something good is about to happen.”

* * *

 

**One Week Later**

* * *

 

“Hey, you be careful out there,” A gravelly voice said, shredded with years of collected sand and dust. A tall, large, shadowy figure leaned up against the worn wooden walls, arms folded disapprovingly. He knew the attitude of his friend well, he knew what it looked like when he was cocky and the results it yielded. 

“Quit worrying about me, I’ll be fine,” Hanada brushed him off nonchalantly. He bounced in place, shaking his hands out. 

“Yeah, sure,” The figure rolled his eyes, thinking of a bloodied, grinning child and the arena’s cheering, deafening and wild. He wasn’t fond of the way this whole thing went down but at least it kept him busy, concerned for a fellow man instead of idle and bored. “I totally bet you won’t get skewered on a pike out there.” 

“Oh, you’re too kind, Ichiro. What is it really?” Hanada asked. Ichiro had more to say, he was sure. Ichiro was not the type for wishes of health and caution. Either he’d had a recent epiphany (not unusual, a change in the status quo down here could make anyone question themselves) or he’d been killed and replaced with another Ichiro. Knowing the Ringmaster, it was damn plausible. But Hanada didn’t have time to really fish an answer out of him. His head swiveled to the illuminated doorway as the announcer and the crowds shrieked for a demon’s appearance, any demon. “Well, come on, spit it out. I had to be out there yesterday.” 

“I said what I needed to.” Ichiro averted his gaze. “Would you prefer it if no one worried about you?”

“I don’t mind the worrying itself but if you mourn me at my inevitable funeral then my spite-fueled ghost will come back and haunt you for the rest of time.”

“Only until I die.” 

“Then my ghost will sing loudly and off-key and follow your ghost everywhere it goes, you will never know peace in the afterlife.” 

“My ghost will be stronger than your ghost,” Ichiro said prissily. If the sand hadn’t already weathered his brain down into little pieces, then this conversation certainly did. The things Hamada could draw out of him. “At least until the exorcists get here.” 

“Yeah, then we’re both screwed,” Hanada grinned. He couldn’t help himself, Gallows humor had its place down here. “Woe is me, actually worth the effort for once. On the bright side, we can drag the Ringmaster down with us.” He tapped the wall twice then headed for the arena. “So I don’t think it’s all bad.”

“I suppose so. See you on the other side.”

* * *

 

“Guten Abend, doctor, how are you?” Mephisto made long, enthusiastic strides down the Order’s headquarters’ hallways. Lamps flooded the walls and ceiling in warm light and cast the floor into a glittering, golden ocean held in place behind a layer of glass. Stopped from his nervous pacing, Dr. Drac Dragulescu turned toward the director. 

“Mephisto!” He burst out, fighting the anxious edge threatening to overcome his voice.    
“Rumors have started spreading all over the Vatican. What happened?” 

“Now, now, doctor, there’s no need to panic,” Mephisto said nonchalantly, waving his hands in a disregarding manner. “I handled most of the situation.” 

“‘Most of,’ won’t be enough. The Son of Satan got into the arena and by the sound of it, he’s told everyone of its existence.”

Or rather Rin let it slip to one or two people and the gossip spread like a hungry wildfire. It was an unspoken statement, nothing that would ever be uttered in the hidden gap between Mephisto’s and Dragulescu’s fervent exchanges about the True Cross Order’s history, the only two who were allowed two who were allowed to speak about it with each other, savvy with the consequences of allowing anyone else to eavesdrop. Dragulescu would never give Rin the benefit of the doubt or any sympathy, notwithstanding  _ how  _ it happened, only that it did, and that to him, it was Rin’s fault. 

But Rin was more than just Satan’s scion. Mephisto had him in his grip as a pawn and, to a lesser degree, a charge. Even if these days he’d only ever protected Rin from life-threatening situations via the Vatican or the Illuminati, neither of which technically expanded into the devil’s very own patented fight club, complete with boxing gloves and bells. Not to mention, Rin was also carefully guarded by two wolfish, mischievous, and powerful exorcists prowling the grounds at Rin’s feet to keep him safe. It couldn’t have been good on either of their mental well beings but Shiro and Yukio didn’t seem to mind. Rin had improved his ability for self-preservation over the years, thus there was less strain on the resources put into his shield, all the better for Okumura-Fujimoto family’s future. 

Dragulescu was the never the type to seek revenge, he only ever viewed things either as helpful or hindering and to remove hurdles when the time came for it. Even if he didn’t think in such a way, he wasn’t a young man anymore, no more capable of direct murder than another average, healthy old man. With the Paladin and his accomplished trainee in the mix, e didn’t have a death wish anyway. 

“I told you not to fret, I can handle this,” Mephisto reassured once more. “I have a trial for this whole debacle in a week and knowing the Grigori’s stance, I’m sure I’ll be able to keep anything from getting out of hand.”

“You’re going to tell them.” To say Drac was horrified was an understatement. 

“Jus in Bello, we’re in the final stretch against the Illuminati’s tactics, they’re the worst we have to worry about at the moment,” Mephisto explained. He didn’t make mistakes and even if he did, well… there was always a quick fix-it for that. When all is said and done, I’ll be sure to do everything in my limit to keep you safe, as per our deal.” 

Not said but still there in Drac’s memory:  _ You continue to work for me, I give you reasonable protection.  _ He swallowed his hesitation and finally let Mephisto pass. 

“Right. I understand.” 

“Good, then that’s all. However, do try to stay away from Lighting. He is the last person alive I want to deal with right now.”    


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One more time, thank you all so much for your support. It literally means the world to me. I read every single of your reviews, even if I don't always respond, and they each one warms my heart. 
> 
> Also, I am just now realizing how dark and spooky those last two parts of this got... It's really dark... I didn't even intend for that, as I meant for it to allude to the dismantling of the arena and liberation of the fighters but it totally sounds like Mephisto intends to kill all of them... _Oops..._
> 
> If you liked the story, send a comment or kudos this way, each one is appreciated. 
> 
> Stay savvy, my friends.  
> ~Hails


	10. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A sweet and fluffy end to right the semi-bitter end of chapter 9.

Winter arrived with no warning. Quick and noiseless, like a traveler seeking overnight shelter only to be kept by some unforeseen beauty and it brought with it a chill and a blanket of snow to drape over the world. Soft shimmers of sunlight peered through the branches of the Yoshino cherry trees, illuminating the white petals in shatters of crystalline brilliance. The atmosphere hung peacefully in the snowy grotto, save for the rising of two voices. 

“The beast roared at the lovely young maiden, for his pain was great and his sorrow endless. But the maiden held fast, unafraid of the monster before her. ‘This will pass,’ She said. ‘While you are terrible and cruel, I will stay and help you. Because you are someone worth helping.’ End chapter seven.”

“So, wait, the beauty chooses to stay with the beast because she believes his form is temporary?”

“Well, sort of, to an extent…” Izumo snapped the book shut and carefully placed it into her satchel. “Beyond her wisdom, she is known to be kind and compassionate. So, yes, she stays because she believes he won’t remain a monster. But she’s also altruistic.” 

“A- Altru- stick?”

“Al-tru-is-stic. It means she’s selfless and always gives to those in need, sometimes even to the point of hurting herself. Her generosity is her flaw.” 

“Oh, like when she sacrificed herself so her father would go free?” Rin asked, halting in his leisurely stride to face his classmate. 

“There, now you’re getting it,” Izumo said with a smile. Rin felt a pinkish blush tinge the tips of his ears. To be honest, spending time with Izumo, studying with her, brought him a sense of serenity that helped mellow out the encroaching tenebrosity of his demon side. Having Shiemi and Yukio and his father around, Rin felt like his hellish nature wasn’t so out of place, almost like it belonged. But Izumo definitely aided in that. She had her own unique ways getting him to calm down, witty banter and study sessions being among them. “Keep it up and you’ll pass the test on this with no problem.” 

“Thanks, Izumo,” Rin murmured, eyes shooting downward to stare at his shoes.

Izumo cleared her throat. “Speaking of tests, your brother passed his promotion exam, right?”

“Yep!” Rin chirped. He seemed almost glad to move the subject to someone else, which was strange in Izumo’s opinion. Rin normally wasn’t so bashful about accepting compliments. Or maybe he was and she just didn’t notice his change in the past two years. Who could say? “Dad said he did really well and that he’ll be getting his tamer license just after the ceremony. Though I’m pretty sure he’s really close to giving Yukio an honorable discharge, especially since Yukio is going straight off to medical school after graduation.” 

“Oh, jeez,” Izumo groused, massaging the space between her eyebrows. “I can’t say I blame him, your brother already works himself to the bone and university on top of exorcism? Sounds like hell.” 

“Glad it’s not me,” Rin said. “Though you better believe I’m going to be bringing him home cooked meals at least once a week. And melatonin.” 

“Aren’t you going to be in school too?”

“Just culinary school!” Rin puffed up his cheeks. “My schedule won’t be as busy as Yukio’s.”

Izumo had an inkling that such a statement wasn’t quite true, however, she hadn’t the faintest clue of what culinary school had in store and thereby couldn’t make proper judgments on it. For all she knew, Rin was right. Maybe his luck was finally heading uphill. 

“Oh, crap, Yukio!” Rin shouted out suddenly, practically diving into his book bag to look for something of importance, something connected back to his brother. _ How could he forget? _ He promised Yukio he’d be there and that he’d help make the mackerel and sushi his brother liked so much. “His celebration is today!”

“WHAT?!” 

“I’ve gotta go, Izumo! I’m sorry!” Rin said. His fingers fell over the small gift-wrapped box in his bag, assured he still had the present he intended to give to his brother, then latched onto his phone. He practically whipped his phone out, already putting in the number for the monastery as hurried out of the academy’s orchard. 

“Hang on a second, I can help!” Izumo yelled, sprinting after him. Rin didn’t object, already deep in a scolding from his father across the phone as he and Izumo bolted across the pavement for the nearest time-space door. 

From his perch in his office, Mephisto swiveled around to the view the ruckus down below. The corners of his mouth twitched upward and his eyes twinkled with mirth. 

“Ah, such is the poetry of young love,” He mused aloud. There was no one to hear his words, not a soul. But he couldn't help the roguish, fun memories that rippled over his mind like the fuzz and static of an old television program. “Wouldn’t you agree, Shiro?”

**Fin**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One more big. Grand. Thank You!!! THANK YOU TO EVERYONE WHO STUCK IT OUT WITH ME. 
> 
> If you liked the story be sure to leave a comment. Every ounce of support keeps me going. That being said, you all have an excellent morning/afternoon/evening/night! Stay savvy!  
> ~Hails


End file.
